


From Black to Blue

by NightlyEchoes



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Alcohol, Angstshipping - Freeform, Bakura is a Mess, M/M, Multi, OCs for story depth - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Tendershipping, Thiefshipping, Violence, Vomiting, tornshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9703682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightlyEchoes/pseuds/NightlyEchoes
Summary: Bakura had been back with the living for just two months. At least physical.Before that, he had spent an unknown amount of time in some kind of limbo of darkness and pain, his soul fragmented into a thousand tiny pieces which floated in the confines of the Millennium Ring, seeking something. A purpose. A voice calling out his name to draw him close.But the voice never came and he was simply greeted by the everyday frustrations of being alive instead.To top it off, things soon go from bad to worse for him and he finds himself seeking out Ryou, who has gotten himself into more trouble than he alone can handle. However, he doesn't want to talk to anyone about it and just pretends to be fine.As Bakura slowly begins to put the pieces together, he stumbles upon something that doesn't only endanger his own new-found life but also makes him question everything he thought to know about his former host.And the only one he can rely on for help is the one who betrayed him before.





	1. Welcome Home

He had never truly appreciated Ryou's looks before: the long, flowing hair with the colour of freshly fallen snow, the trustworthy brown doe-eyes or the androgynous face which usually left more than just one man questioning his sexuality by the end of the night. To Bakura these features had been merely an useful disguise until now, similar to the metaphorical sheep's wool a wolf wore to gain the trust of its prey before sinking sharp teeth into tender flesh. And that he had.  
He had successfully used Ryou's innocent looks to weasel his way into Yugi's group of friends while planting a constant feeling of doubt and distrust in their little minds along the way, leaving it to his former host to deal with the consequences afterwards.  
_Casualties_ , Bakura simply had said and moved on towards his final goal.  
Always moving on. Until there had been nothing left to move on to anymore besides total darkness and despair. But even then he had taken another step with almost foolish pride.  
His tongue licked along soft, plump lips which didn't belong to him and yet did, while he pushed his way through a crowded nightclub in south-east Domino. Men and women alike tried to rub themselves against his lean body to the pounding rhythm of the music (some weird trance track he didn't recognize), and despite his usual willingness to return the favour, even if it was just to let his wandering hands get in contact with some expensive goodies, he didn't do it this time. Instead, his dark, brown eyes constantly scanned the ever-moving crowd in search of his original target which he had lost after a joined departure from the bar where several drinks with names fancier than a Pharaoh's pedigree had been shared. The burning taste of alcohol still lingered in his mouth.  
For a short moment, a flash of scarlet bobbed along the ocean of people like a buoy in a storm and immediately caught Bakura's attention again. On a clear, sunny day he would have been unable to lose sight of such a vibrant colour but in a nightclub like this he had to wait for every moment the bright spotlights hit his victim of the day or it was lost once more in the flickering mix of purple, green and blue lights which had somehow turned his earlier drink orange.  
Nothing made sense any more, but he had stopped caring long ago. He had a purpose. At least for tonight.

Soon Bakura had reached the remote corner where he was awaited already. The irritating flashing lights were kept at bay there by one of the large, round pillars which divided the dance floor from the few tables that had been scattered along the outer walls of the club to offer at least a small chance of rest for the nightly club-goers. A thin stripe of purple neon, which for some reason ran along every wall of the club, was the only constant source of light that remained, the rest of the spot shrouded almost completely into shadows and isolation.  
'So, sweetie,' a voice like velvet greeted him and, for just a second, Bakura hesitated. 'Is this private enough?'  
The woman in front of him cocked her head to the side and gave him a playful smile while she gracefully reclined against the black wall behind her. It was easy to tell that she was only half as intoxicated as Bakura had originally expected her to be and knew exactly what she was doing. But he wasn't one to back down from a challenge because of a slight inconvenience. He was, after all, the best at his job and he fucking knew it.  
With a reaffirming nod, he closed the gap between them and loosely wrapped his arms around the woman's waist. Her name had been forgotten as soon as she had finished saying the last syllable, but he had the feeling that it had been just as much hers as "Bakura" was his.  
'This is perfect.'  
She sighed in relief and pressed herself against his thin frame, playfully walking her manicured fingers up along his chest. Her soft, red lips ghosted over his throat before settling for his exposed collarbone.  
' _You_ are perfect,' he lied with a hum of something akin to pleasure. His faked coyness was a poor attempt to give her the illusion of being the femme fatale she saw herself as, but it seemed to work since she soon began to toy with the buttons of his black shirt. He turned his head to the side, slowly batting his long, darkened lashes, and regretted the move immediately. The flashing lights, which he had thought to have successfully left behind, assaulted his senses again and he felt his stomach contract. Apparently, someone in charge had decided that they needed something quicker to keep up with the current agglomeration of thrumming beats. Something quicker and brighter. Bakura screwed his eyes shut.  
The thin fabric of his shirt was pushed aside and cool fingertips gently caressed his freshly exposed skin, successfully drawing his attention back to his current acquaintance as they grazed his pert nipples. The woman chuckled as their eyes met again and more kisses were pressed along his neck while she made sure to linger at his racing pulse a little longer.  
'Do you like this?' she breathed into his ear.  
He swallowed but more saliva gathered in his mouth immediately. He swallowed again.  
'I do, but there's something I would prefer.' Without a warning, he pushed her against the wall facing the dance floor. A small gasp escaped her as her back hit the cold stones but if it had caused her any actual discomfort, she didn't comment on it. He sighed in relief as his eyes adjusted to the darkness again while he let his hands slowly make their way further down her body. Yes, this was better.  
The silken red dress clung firmly to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. But Bakura didn't need to imagine anything as he shoved the hem up just enough to expose her creamy thighs. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt him stroke her skin in the process. He licked his lips again as a flash of gold appeared in the corner of his eyes while she readjusted her grip on him. _Way_ better.  
'Not so innocent now, are you?' A slender leg wrapped itself around his waist, eagerly drawing him closer. 'I like it.' The dress skirted up shamelessly in the process but neither of them minded as he leaned in to press his lips against hers for an eager kiss. The taste of alcohol, strawberries, and cigarettes lured him in as she closed her eyes, her body leaning into every touch of him. Skilled fingers pushed the dress even higher, teasing her unmerciful before retreating again. She whined in protest at the loss of unspoken promises.  
'I was never innocent.' He chuckled and began to play with her, trailing leisurely slow along her sides, tracing the outlines of her breasts, and along the sensitive insides of her arms until he reached the fine golden bracelet he had noticed earlier. He moaned as she kissed him again and he finally gave in, pressing his full weight against her. His fingers touched the bracelet again as he guided her hands into his hair. She didn't notice it. Her mind was clouded with the warm haze of a Daiquiri and the desire to be with her new-found acquaintance. With a sensual sigh on her lips, she ground her hips against him in a rhythm which was supposed to follow the music in some way apparently, but only seemed desperate.  
Bakura pulled her closer again and began to return the movements, feeling his skinny jeans become noticeable tighter. A mere physical reaction to their actions on his part but a welcomed one if her increasing moans were an indicator.  
_Slut_ , he thought while she kept rubbing herself against his growing bulge like a cat in heat. He kissed along her neck and up to her ear where her expensive earrings tickled his cheek. A shivering sigh escaped him as she put extra pressure into one of her movements, causing a sheepish grin to appear on her lush lips as she finally got a reaction out of him.  
'I want you,' she moaned into his ear, frustration audible in her voice. 'Now.'  
In this moment, it became clear to Bakura that she wasn't used to be kept waiting for anything. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, still unable to tell whether they were blue or green.  
'What about your husband?' he asked, taking her hand to press a kiss against her diamond ring before interlacing their fingers. This was too easy. Even for his standards.  
'He doesn't care about me.' She pouted and it disgusted him. 'Not like you.'  
With a sigh, he gently pulled one of the thin straps of her dress over her shoulder and pressed a kiss onto the freshly exposed skin just as the lights of the club appeared to get dimmed. He raised his head to see what was going on but only heard his own blood rush through his veins before he stumbled. The purple stripe which had been his point of focus suddenly swayed to the side and along with it the rest of the club. The next thing he noticed was the strong smell of cheap perfume.  
'Had a bit much, sweetie?' the woman tried to tease, but Bakura had felt her tense up at his faux-pas and knew that if he wasn't careful, she would dump his sorry ass before he had gotten what he needed.  
If only everything would stop spinning for just a moment...  
'Are you okay?' Even though her voice sounded far, far away, it began to annoy him and he wondered why he even went through all this hassle in the first place. Was this really worth everything? He needed it, yes, but there were other ways to do it and he knew all of them. Yet here he was, in a dark and loud nightclub with a woman whose name he couldn't remember while he silently fought against a body which wasn't his own and seemed more than willing to give up sooner than later.  
Bakura took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart before he finally nodded. His knees still felt weak but he was forced to play it down.  
'You were just a bit much for me there.' He smiled a million-dollar smile and hoped that it was enough for her to forget about this incident. At least for a moment.  
His hands wandered down her body again until they rested against her lower back and he began to sway a little to the music, his arousal still firmly pressing against her. He had to change tactics if he didn't want to blow it.  
'We could ditch this hell-hole and go to my place.' Hot breath brushed against her ear and she shivered again. 'And have some fun. Just one night and tomorrow you'll be back with your fucking idiot of a husband.'  
She turned her head to look at him, slightly caught off-guard by the other's sudden offer. It was just then that she noticed the slightly purple shine his white hair had due to the nearby neon lights, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His eyes met hers again and it took her breath away. If she had been just a bit more sober, her mind would have associated the stranger with an incubus but as it was, she was dumbfounded, fascinated by the slight reddish glow in his eyes (a reflection of the lights, she reasoned with herself). She didn't even mind his extremely dilated pupils which would have caused any nearby officer to run several drug tests at once with him. It was dark and she was hot. They were more or less drunk. It was a good enough explanation to her.  
'It's more private than this. Just you and me.' He lightly nibbled on her earlobe, his teeth grazing her earrings. She moaned and leaned against him with her full weight, one hand reaching up to bury itself in his thick mane.  
'Is it far away from here?'  
The question hung heavily in the air between them for a moment and Bakura knew that this could turn out to be the deal breaker for him if he wasn't careful.  
'A bit up north.' He paused, calculating. 'You can see the pier from the bedroom windows. It's a pity that we missed the sunset.'  
The woman let out a needy whine, already having forgotten the temporary second thoughts she had a moment ago, and nodded.  
Bakura smirked. He knew that he had convinced her already at the mention of the pier. To the people living in this area it was a magical attraction drawing them to that place. The prospect of getting away. Freedom. _Hope._  
But she wasn't from here. Her clothes were too fancy, her jewellery too real, and there was still a shine in her eyes which had yet to fade over the years.  
Nevertheless, she had to be plagued by similar desires or she would have never set foot in a nightclub like this. No, she was looking for something new and potentially dangerous. Her own kind of freedom. And for some reason she had seen exactly that in Bakura.  
He kissed her cheek and withdrew from her after letting the fingers of his free hand teasingly trail along the diamond ring that still adorned her finger. It was hardly anything more than a mere mockery of her current bond by now.  
'Hold on a moment, sweetie.' She leaned in to steal another kiss from her temporary companion before she withdrew again, perfectly unaware that he had stolen something else from her in that very same moment. 'I'll be with you again soon.'  
Bakura smirked and let her disappear in the crowd with a promise to wait for her on his lips. Well, this wasn't going the way he had intended to but, in his opinion, it was even better than his original plan. At least he wouldn't have to deal with ditching her ass this way. Or breaking into an apartment. Or spending the night with her.  
He had already gotten what he had come for with gentle touches and soft bites anyway. Completely unnoticed by her. For now, at least.  
Bakura quickly buttoned up his shirt again, ready to disappear before she could return with more questions than he could answer, but after just one step he found himself leaning against the nearest wall again, cursing himself and his body under his breath. _His body_. The thought made him snort.  
With clenched teeth he pushed himself away from the wall with shaky arms and into the dancing mass of people. Everything was starting to get too much. The noise, the lights, the constant touches of sweaty bodies. He stumbled once as he got pushed by some overexcited stranger but quickly regained his balance and a short glance over his shoulder reaffirmed him that she wasn't right behind him, her red dress nowhere to be seen. He sped up as he pushed and shoved his way towards the exit, now perfectly blended in with the crowd, and after another moment, he had finally made it past the bouncer.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped outside was the clean air. The next thing being the overwhelming silence in comparison to the prior music which had not only assaulted his ears but also had caused a soft but constant ringing noise to remain with him. Nevertheless, the change of atmosphere was a welcomed relief.  
Bakura turned around once more to make sure that his Lady in Red hadn't been able to catch up to him before he walked down the busy street with quick and steady steps, finally leaving the obnoxious building, which shouted its name to the night-crowd of Domino City with uninviting pink neon lights, behind. He tightened his jacket slightly to shield himself from the harsh wind and to keep himself at least somewhat warm, before he turned into the nearest backstreet where he seemingly disappeared into the darkness.  
The talking of the people waiting to be let in was nothing more but a mere background noise here, a soft hum in the night, and Bakura visibly relaxed now that he was sure that he was alone. He didn't have to pretend any more.  
Knowing the way by heart, he concentrated on the heavy feeling of the contents in his pockets and the fine golden bracelet which easily curled around his fingers like a sleeping snake as he played with it to ignore the strange taste on his tongue. While it was nothing in comparison to the worth of the diamond ring he had snatched in the last moment, it was something else that made him cling to the feeling of objects made of gold. Something which had become subtly hidden in the depths of his subconsciousness.  
His eyes narrowed and he stopped walking, feeling a sudden pain in his stomach followed by something which he could only describe as "shaking internally".  
_Panic attack_ shot through his mind for a mere second, but before he could actually realise what was happening, he threw up already, the bile burning in his throat and on his tongue. Shivering violently, Bakura slumped against a wall and emptied his stomach once more.  
He had no idea where these random moments during which his body simply decided to turn against him came from, but they made his work harder with every passing day and, to be honest, he didn't know how long he was able to keep going like this in general, considering that they just seemed to be getting worse each time.  
In the beginning, he had thought them to be a simple side effect of the madness that had dragged him out of the darkness, then as his body readjusting to the process of living, a disease he had accidentally caught somewhere. Annoying human stuff he just had never bothered to look into for 3000 years.  
But after two months had passed, he had given up to seek any kind of explanation for his situation.  
He was alive. He breathed. He was capable of sleeping, eating, fucking. He woke up every two hours. He could hardly keep anything down. He was almost constantly tired. Tired and cold. Breathing hurt.  
All he did know was that whatever or whoever had brought him back had fucked up big time.  
His stomach contracted again but all that came out was a clear fluid and he stumbled onwards, wanting nothing more than to return to the shady hotel room he currently called home and lie down. At least for a while. He had done his share for today. He deserved some rest.

Bakura had already been able to see the backside of the hotel with its "N"-shaped crack in the wall just underneath a balcony on the fifth floor, as he stopped in his tracks, feeling the hair on his neck stand up out of the sudden. Every muscle in his body tensed up immediately as he recognised the feeling as what it was: Someone was watching him.  
'Bakura?' A raspy voice greeted him and he hid the small bracelet in the depths of the pocket of his jeans. So much for getting some rest.   
'I already expected ya.'  
Bakura straightened his back with a slight smirk, not wanting to let his true physical state simmer through, and stepped closer to the other man who leaned leisurely against a dirty brick wall. It was almost impossible to tell whether this was a temporary arrangement or the man's stained clothes had just gotten him stuck there at some point. Bakura didn't dare to ask even though the question was dangerously close to slipping off the tip of his tongue as soon as he had seen the other man. Experience had, however, taught him to keep his mouth shut in situations like these.  
'You know that I always deliver.'  
The other man laughed, exposing some rotten teeth in the process.  
'Took ya damn long, though. Seems like yer gettin' old. Or lazy. Maybe both?'  
Bakura ground his teeth together. It wasn't any of the other's business how long he took to get the stuff he needed. They didn't work together in that way anyway. Bakura stole and then sold what he got to Alistair in exchange for some good hard cash. That was the only deal they had. There weren't any deadlines to be held nor any expectations to be fulfilled.  
'You’re walking on some fucking thin ice today,' he grunted as he emptied his pockets, exposing not only the diamond ring but also the earrings, a thin necklace and some other stuff he had gotten on his hasty way out. The bracelet was the only thing he kept to himself.  
Of course, it was the shiny ring which immediately caught Alistair's attention in the end. Bakura winced inwardly as he had to watch the other's greasy fingers touch the expensive object all over.  
'Got yerself some nice plastic ring there, son.' Alistair snorted as he put it into his own pocket with one quick motion. 'Hope ya don't mind me keepin' it. Gonna give it to my wife. That old hag has been nag-'  
A flick of a wrist and the sharp steel of a switchblade knife pressed against Alistair’s neck within the blink of an eye, almost cutting his skin. It would only take one wrong move from either of them and the blade would be covered with fresh blood.  
'That's a fucking diamond, you piece of shit. I know it and so do you. So don't try to pull any of this crap on me.'  
Alistair’s eyes met Bakura's and while the expression he was met with would make anyone else wet their pants, he just chuckled quietly while he tried to shove Bakura away from him.  
'Calm down. Calm down. No need to escalate the situation, eh?' He put his hands up in mock defence but Bakura didn't budge, finally having had enough of the other's shit.  
'You either give me the ring back or hand over the money. Otherwise _this_ will be the last thing you'll ever see in your life.' He pushed the knife a little higher until the tip was pressing against Alistair's carotid artery.  
'Hey, hey! _Hey_! Ya know damn well that ya can't just waltz into the nearest shop and sell a piece like this, Baku. Ya need me. Yer nothing without me! So put yer damn butter knife down and listen to good ol' Alistair 'cause I got an idea.'  
That had been the last straw of Bakura's patience. He had heard enough of the other's ideas to fill a lifetime. And in Bakura's case that was a _long_ time.  
'No, you listen, dipshit! I have manoeuvred my way around for far longer than you would expect. If you think that I am nothing without you than you're damn wrong, Al. I don't need some bossy fatass to usher me around. Especially not if I am the one doing the gods-damn work here. I never see you move your ass around. It's me. Me. ME. My safety is on the line every fucking time. Mine. Not yours. I never needed anyone before and I sure as hell don't need anyone now.' He leaned closer and whispered into the other's ear: 'You wouldn't believe the things I've done, Alistair. The things I've seen. This is a piece of patty cake in comparison to that. And yours wouldn't be the first blood this knife spills so if you expect me to hesitate even a second before cutting your damn throat because you think it'd be my first time you're wrong again. You can only consider yourself lucky that I know that your dirty henchmen are hanging around somewhere close to keep your worthless ass safe. Because if they didn't you'd be a goner now, Al.'  
Alistair carefully tried to turn his head but immediately felt the pressure of the blade at his neck increase. Therefore, he decided to just look at the other from the corner of his eyes.  
'Ya were nothing as I found ya, Baku. Jus' a miserable piece o' trash I found lyin' in the street like an abandoned kitten ready to die. I dragged ya out of the rain. I gave ya a head start in this business. Yer making yerself bigger than ya are, don'tcha think? Ya think ya have any experience? Pff. Where from? From what I've seen ya were hardly able to keep yerself alive, leave alone stable. Ya should consider yerself glad that I took ya under my wing. Ya owe yer life to me.'  
Bakura laughed the hardest he had in a long time, only stopping as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eyes. A quiet reminder that he should always watch his steps. He readjusted his grip on the knife.  
'Me? Owe my life to you? Excuse me, but that was a good one. I don't know whom I owe this second chance to, but it sure as hell ain't you because you're nothing more than a pawn in the bigger game. _I_ used _you_ because it was convenient for me. Saved me from any trouble with the police for selling the shit I stole. But I'm tired of your bullshit. You always rip me off! Fuck, I should have done this way earlier.'  
'Bite the hand which feeds you? Tsk tsk tsk.'  
Bakura's gaze darted to the hand which Alistair had raised in one swift motion. A quick "snap" followed and in this moment he knew that he had waited too long.  
In desperation, he tried to go through with his plan, just one cut was all he needed, but a stinging pain already began to spread across his scalp as his head was yanked back by one of Alistair's henchmen, his focus temporarily shifting to the dark clouds covering the night sky above him. Bakura tried to turn around to free himself and do at least some damage to his attacker but by then another man had gotten a hold of his wrist and twisted it until he dropped the knife in agony. A scream escaped him as the limbs of his already sensitive body were twisted in new painful positions as the two men tried to secure him in what they considered to be a "safe" position.  
Alistair just laughed, satisfied with the turn of events. He rubbed the spot of his neck against which the sharp knife had been pressed a mere moment ago and fell silent, a deep frown appearing on his face. A thin layer of blood covered the fingertips of his right hand. Obviously Bakura still had managed it to cut open the first layer of skin. He would pay for that.  
In the meantime, Bakura tried to kick, bite, and lash out at his attackers with the same ferocity of a rabid dog but his movements were poorly coordinated, almost sluggish, and he soon found himself with his hands tied behind his back. The zip tie dug itself into the already hurting flesh of his wrists while he still wondered where it had even come from. With frenzied glances he shifted his attention from his fence to the two men which had over-powered him and now held him firmly in place between them, their fingers burying themselves painfully into his biceps. A deep growl escaped his throat while he mentally cursed himself for not having noticed that they must have hidden closer than he had anticipated. Way closer.  
'Not feeling so big anymore now, do you?' Alistair mocked him. He brushed the blood off on his already stained trousers and stepped closer to Bakura who tried to flex his hands and wrists to see whether he could weasel his way out of the zip tie. To no avail.  
'Fuck off!' he barked.  
Alistair narrowed his grey eyes, studying Bakura carefully. He knew exactly what the other was capable of on good days and since they hadn't bound his feet yet, he was still able to fight back to some degree. It would only be a matter of time until he would realise it as well.  
With another flick of his wrist Alistair gestured his henchmen to take care of that and Bakura went down with a kick to the inside of his knee before he could even react.  
'To be honest, I never thought that it would come to this, Baku. You had so much potential.' Alistair shook his head in a false display of disappointment.  
Bakura inhaled sharply, still in pain from the kick, and dug his fingernails into the the thin plastic that bound him to distract himself. He tried to get up again, had to get up, but the sharp sting in his knee and the added force of the two men on his shoulders kept him to stay in his current position, sitting on his knees. Bakura licked his lips. He had seen this before. It had happened to another one of Alistair's henchmen and it hadn't ended well for that guy. But not even once would he have expected to see himself in this position. He licked his lips again, not ready to back down. It didn't matter any more anyway. _Might as well go down with a fight._  
'All I wanted was my fair pay, you asshole,' Bakura spat, not noticing the temporary relief of pressure on his left shoulder, which was immediately followed by another kick. Harder. Lower.  
It had been aimed at his kidneys. A yelp escaped him and he fell over to the side since the second man, who had kept him down, had stepped away, not wanting to get in contact with people he considered to be scum. Bakura's shoulder hit the asphalt in a strange angle, causing him even more pain. Alistair grinned in satisfaction at the display.  
'Look at yourself, Baku. Is this really worth it? I always treated you right. Yet, you’re accusing me of doing you wrong. You attacked me, Baku.' He shook his head. 'You were my favourite.' Alistair stepped closer and crouched down next to Bakura to get a better look at him.  
Their eyes met and Bakura instinctively knew that this was the moment were he was supposed to admit to being in the wrong. To apologize. To be submissive.  
But if there was one thing he didn't do, it was submitting. He hadn't bowed to the Pharaoh and he sure as hell wouldn't begin doing that to a fucking fence.  
'Kiss my ass.'  
A third kick followed and left Bakura panting for air. He curled up slightly to prevent any significant damage to his internal organs, but there was only so much he could do since his arms were forced into an awkward position behind his back.  
'You didn't want this any other way, Baku. I'm sorry.' Alistair stood upright, displaying his true height for the first time in days, and gestured his henchmen to continue their work but not to kill their victim. 'I'm sure you'll change your mind one day. I'll be waiting.' With these words he began to walk away, leaving Bakura to his bloody and painful demise.

In hindsight, Bakura would say that he just remembered the first few but extremely painful kicks before everything interlaced into a dull throbbing that just wouldn't end until very much later. At least that's what he thought while he focused on the shiny object that lay around four feet away from him. The black handle. Stainless steel, yet covered with a rusty colour. The exact colour of the wet asphalt underneath. A sharp pebble which protruded from the dark mass. The silence, which, at some point, followed.

The first thing he actually noticed about himself was a major headache followed by a throbbing agony resonating throughout the rest of his body. With a low groan, he carefully moved his head, scraping his cheek on the rough asphalt while doing so. His eyes fluttered open, but all he saw were blurred shapes of dark colours. A cough erupted from his burning lungs and the taste of copper filled his mouth. With a sigh he let himself go limp and closed his eyes again.  
_This was it_ , he thought bitterly. After all the years he had managed to power through, he would die in a dirty back alley like the street rat he was. In this moment, a harsh breeze blew over him and tugged on the thick fabric of his jacket. He was cold. So, so cold. And tired.  
Deep down, his mind yelled at him that he had to get up before things got worse because, no, he wasn't dead yet. He had to move on. Always moving on. And for some reason he listened.  
Using his elbow as a lever and his legs for manoeuvring, he tried to push himself into a somewhat sitting position, but it turned out to be far more difficult than he had imagined it to be with his hands still tied together behind his back. Only after several tries he finally managed it somehow, a sharp sting in his sides letting him know that his overall condition was worse than he had imagined it to be. He coughed again.  
Bakura knew that he could consider himself lucky. He was still alive at least. Unlike the other guy who had gotten a similar treatment and had ended up on a trip to the forests outside of Domino. The next time Bakura had seen his face was on the front page of the morning paper, accompanying an article about a "missing person". But that had been it.  
Biting his already bruised lower lip in a desperate attempt to fight through the pain, Bakura scanned his surroundings with his healthy eye, his left one noticeably swollen shut. It hadn't taken long until his vision had returned to normal and his gaze soon fell onto the very same object that had caught his interest before: the knife he had lost during the fight. It was too far away to reach just now but Bakura was glad that it was still there in the first place and hadn't been snatched by either Alistair or his henchmen. If he only could get to it somehow, he might be able to cut the zip tie that bound his hands together. He narrowed his eyes in thought, the taste of copper becoming almost unbearable as it ran down his throat.  
With extremely slow movements, Bakura crawled and shuffled forwards as best as he could, silently cursing everyone he had ever met between clenched teeth. He had to stop twice, having to take deep breaths every time he did. His lungs created a rattling sound whenever he completely filled them with air not unlike a snake which threatened its enemies. He didn't care. Couldn't care if he wanted to keep on living. No, he had to move on. As he had always done before: breathe and live. No matter how.  
In the end, he was able to touch the handle of the knife with his fingertips as he slightly leaned to the side. It slipped out of his hand once before he finally got a good grip on it. With skilled fingers he turned it around until he could saw away at the plastic tie until it snapped open, instantly granting him more freedom.  
Bakura carefully rubbed the skin surrounding his bloody wrists and flicked the knife close. It had done its job for the day and was stored away again securely in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. Now that his hands were free, he slowly got up, his legs trembling as he tried to stand on his own, but it was only as he took a step forwards that he noticed his left knee still hurt as well.  
_Fuck._ They had gotten him really good this time it seemed. With a long, shaky sigh he stumbled over to the closest wall to lean against it for some time to catch his breath and make a quick check on his total situation. He was bruised, battered and almost every single nerve inside his body felt as if it was on fire. One eye was swollen, his knee hurt like a bitch but was still bendable, breathing hurt, his lip was split. But besides of that he considered himself to be fine. Nothing which he couldn't get used to or just ignore. For a while at least. Until he got himself patched up.  
Bakura took a final deep breath before he pushed himself away from the wall and limped towards the street leading to the hotel complex he stayed at.  
The few people who passed him gave him weird looks and he could only imagine how bad he looked but it was his least concern. Instead, he just wrapped his jacket tighter around himself and made sure to keep his head low, his long hair covering most of the bruises and cuts this way.  
Despite not having gone far, he was soon exhausted and wondered how he should get anywhere like this. He hated being tired all the time. He hated feeling so weak. His body felt more sensitive than it had as he still used to possess Ryou and, for some reason, every wound seemed to heal slower than before. It frustrated him to no end.

He stumbled onwards until he finally reached the old run-down hotel where he had stayed in constant hope of finding something better. The receptionist, barely older than twenty, glanced up from his desk as he heard the dirty glass doors slide open but immediately averted his gaze again after having seen Bakura, not muttering a single word of welcome or showing any sign of recognition. Despite being so young, he had already seen enough of the hotel's customers to understand that some questions were better left unanswered. Bakura didn't mind. He shuffled upstairs -the elevators never worked properly anyway-, before he retreated to his room where he slumped down on the bed, ignoring its still unmade state. His whole body ached and he knew that he soon had to properly check on his physical state, but he just couldn't get himself to do it. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and just let everything happen for a while.  
He couldn't keep on living like this. That much he knew.   
With a pained groan, he slowly turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling where a cheap neon light flickered. It was only noticeable once one stared directly at it, but once noticed, it couldn't be unseen.  
Bakura wondered how he had ever been able to end up like this. Broken. In ruins. Without any starting attributes in his favour.  
Of course, he didn't blame anything else but his shitty fate for it, having hardly ever been more than a thief, but this was getting out of hand.  
Almost instinctively, he reached into his jeans pocket where the fine golden bracelet still lingered, wincing slightly as his wrist brushed against the denim. A slight smile appeared on his face as he touched the cool metal and he didn't even care that it hurt his split lip. He didn't know why he was so happy about still having this small object. It was a good reassurance in case he really needed some money, yes, but it would never reach the amount of cash the ring could have brought him. If he was lucky, it might be sufficient to buy enough food to last him another few days.  
He sighed and rolled onto his side again so he was facing the windows which offered him a good look onto the south-east of Domino City. The streets were dirty and the buildings dirtier. It was nothing in comparison to his former hideout. Ryou's warm and cosy apartment where the water in the shower was hot and neither the couch nor the bed were covered with stains he didn't want to know of what they were. He still remembered how soft the mattress had been even though he had never spent much time actually sleeping on it.  
It was weird how things changed and he almost had laughed at this, if it hadn't been for the pain in his sides. With a groan he sat up before he slowly made his way into the adjacent bathroom where he undressed and stepped into the shower. He cleaned himself as well as he could, getting most of the dirt from his skin and out of his hair. Bakura even tried to comb it but soon gave up. In the end, all he did was change into new clothes -an oversized sweater and a pair of bootcut jeans-, before he shoved all of his belongings into a small sports bag he had stolen from someone at the train station and left his room for good. In the lobby, he threw his keys onto the receptionist's desk before turning his back to the hotel with the thought that he had to go somewhere safe until he had rested up manifesting at the back of his mind. 

Before he even realised it, Bakura found himself walking a way he had taken far too often since he had been brought back. He had, however, never actually _arrived_ at the destination before. Every time he had realised where he was heading, he had stopped and stared at the familiar apartment complex for several minutes, always watching, waiting, taking second guesses before he had returned to the place where he had come from: the beauty that was the old _Domino Inn_.  
This time, though, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Even though his current condition almost forced him to several times. There was nothing he could head back to any more to pretend he lived a new life now, independent from former "acquaintances". So here he was, standing in front of the same damn apartment complex again which almost mockingly reminded him of the things that could have been. That should have been, if his luck had been just a little bit better. If the Pharaoh's vessel and his dumb friends hadn't interfered during the very last duel. _Revenge_. _Power_.  
He took another deep, rattling breath and stepped forwards. He had to do it now. Now or never. Pulling back the hood of his sweater, he entered the building, a bunch of familiar smells immediately hitting his nose. Apparently, the caretaker still used the very same cleaning supplies as he had three years ago. Bakura smiled weakly at the memory while he waited for the elevator to arrive. As the doors finally did slide open, accompanied with the familiar 'ting', he stepped inside, subconsciously pressing the right button. The doors closed again and his gaze shifted to the red number signalling the current location. E.  
Bakura let his head rest against the elevator wall, his eyes almost fluttering close due to exhaustion. He hummed softly to himself, trying to form a tune which had begun to tug at the very bottom of his soul like a little child did on its mother's skirt.  
1\. 2. 3. 4.  
He had heard it before. Somewhere.  
5.  
Abandoned in the darkness.  
6.  
The doors opened again and he left the elevator, taking a turn to the left to walk the last few meters to the dreaded apartment, which stank of a past long lost. _601_. Same name. His apartment which used to be theirs. Used to.  
Bakura knocked once. Twice. Three times, and he had to wait once more.  
'I'm coming,' a familiar voice called out and Bakura glanced to the side, suddenly unsure of his own behaviour. He had no idea how the other would react to seeing him. He chuckled. Probably not amused. He heard something unlock before the door slowly opened.  
A pair of tired, brown eyes widened in disbelief at what they saw and Bakura noticed the other's shoulders slack almost immediately. Resignation?  
Bakura grinned, a snarky remark already on his lips as he waited for a verbal reaction, but all he got was the gaze of disbelief turning into one of honest concern with a small hint of sadness as the other inspected his visible condition: the scars, cuts, and bruises. Without a warning, the door swung open completely and Ryou stepped aside, ready to let Bakura inside.  
'Welcome home.'


	2. Renewal Of A Tender

'It's like nothing has changed...'  
Bakura stood, slightly baffled by the awfully familiar look of Ryou's apartment, in the middle of the living room and took his sweet time to scan his current surroundings, his sports bag already lying abandoned next to the couch.  
It was as if the last three years had never happened and he had just gotten back from another night spent on the streets of Domino City in search of something. Duelists. A Millennium Item. Yugi. A hint on how to proceed with his plans. On a few rare occasions even Marik.  
The TV was still running in the background, though muted, and illuminated the white couch which was just big enough to accommodate three people at most. The small glass table in front of it was littered with magazines about tabletop RPGs, MMORPGs, currently ongoing game-shop sales (Bakura even spotted a small flyer of the Kame Game shop) as well as a TV magazine opened on the current day and a small note with a few numbers hastily scrawled onto it. Figurines of various sizes still adorned the shelves on both sides of the TV. Perfected craftsmanship on display for everyone to gawk at.  
' _Everything_  has changed,' Ryou replied dryly, checking once more whether the door was properly locked before he turned on his heels to stare back into brown eyes which were oh-so similar to his own. His gaze slowly wandered up and down Bakura's body to take in every detail of the other with fearful fascination.  
It was weird to look at him like this. Not due to his poor condition in general, mind you, but because, underneath all the dried blood, the body he possessed was still technically Ryou's. The long, white hair reaching down to the back; the heart-shaped face which, while still holding soft and delicate features, was dominated by a strong jaw and high cheekbones; the slender fingers which currently toyed with the sleeve hems of an over-sized grey sweater. Everything which his friends would deem to be solely his, Bakura had it.  
Nevertheless, Ryou felt as if he was looking into a mirror which had gotten a barely noticeable crack over time and he just hadn't spotted it yet. From a slight change in posture to a grin exposing just a few too many teeth; the changes were so minor, so subtle, that it caused a cold shiver to run down his spine. This was the distorted version of himself he had met in nightmares.  
The only difference so far were the eyes. While still outlined with dark eye-liner to distract from the unnatural white eyelashes, they now held the colour of melted chocolate instead of the demonic blood-red Ryou, for some reason, remembered them having. A comforting sight, if it hadn't been for the black eye and the bruise adorning his face.  
'What happened to you?'  
Bakura shrugged and picked up the TV magazine, deliberately ignoring the small but colourful flyer which had caught his attention earlier. He flipped through the pages with obvious disinterest.  
'That's none of your business. I just need a place to crash for a few.'  
Ryou opened and closed his mouth as his mind tried to process the words he had just heard. None of his business? None of his... The audacity Bakura had!  
'How is this none of my concern? You come here, in the middle of the night, having done God-knows-what by your looks, and you expect me to just accept that and take you in? You look awful, spirit. Closer to death than anything else. So, unless you just got resurrected on a certain pet cemetery, I demand answers.'  
'I'm not a fucking zombie, landlord!'  
'Well, the last time I checked, you were dead. And don't call me that! Those times are over.'  
'I wasn't dead.' Bakura carelessly threw the magazine back onto the table and slowly made his way towards Ryou who had yet to move from his spot at the door. 'Technically, I wasn't alive either, but I _existed_.'  
With the same carefulness one might approach a wild animal, he walked a bit closer, always making sure to keep his hands visible to not appear as a possible threat, and only stopped as he noticed the little step backwards. Distrust. Fear? His eyes sought Ryou's again and he was greeted by the slightest shimmer of curiosity still glistening in them.  
'I don't know where I was,' he began again, slowly, keeping his voice soft. _I'm harmless. Trust me._  'There was nothing but darkness and a lot of time to think. About you. Me. Us.'  
'There never was an _us_ , spirit,' Ryou spat, taking another step back. 'Only you and your plans! I just happened to be _convenient_. And it seems to be exactly the same again. Otherwise you wouldn't be here.'  
'Oh, come on,' Bakura basically purred. 'There was more than just convenience between us, wasn't there? I protected you from bullies, didn't I? I kept you safe. I was there for you. It wasn't all bad.'  
Ryou wanted to laugh. He wanted to lose himself in the ridiculousness of the situation and laugh until tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Instead he just averted his gaze, subconsciously worrying his lower lip. This couldn't be. This was just one huge joke the universe played him.  
'Kept me safe? You ruined my life. You ruined everything. You ruined ME. There's blood on my hands because of you. Blood which I won't ever be able to wash off.'  
'It was necessary to-'  
'Necessary? What for? You failed! You disappeared! I was left behind to deal with the damage you had done. I was alone after... everything. You were gone, Bakura. GONE!' At the finality of his last word, Ryou's voice gave in, drawing a strange, high-pitched sound from his throat which surprised even him.  
Bakura tilted his head to the side, a slight grin beginning to tug on his lips.  
'If I didn't know it better, I'd say you missed me.'  
Ryou screwed his eyes shut and let himself sink against the door, the metal cold against his back, as he mentally began to count to ten. He never made it past "three".  
'Is that your reason for letting me in?'  
Bakura's voice was low and way too close to his ear for Ryou's liking. Hot breath teased his skin while the scent of cheap, generic soap hit his nostrils.  
'Ryou?'  
As he heard his name whispered with a sensuality he had deemed only long-term lovers capable of, Ryou wanted nothing more than to let himself sink into the other's arms. To fall for the obvious trap. To give in to Bakura's twisted definition of caring. But he knew better. This wasn't the intimate sigh of a partner but a snake tasting his name on its tongue to see whether he was small enough to swallow. Ryou's eyes snapped opened.  
'Back off,' he hissed in an attempt to get back in charge. 'You can stay the night but I want you gone tomorrow. If whoever did this to you shows up, I won't hold them back. And take a shower. A proper one.'  
To his own surprise, Bakura actually retreated, visibly caught off-guard by the sudden outburst. Or by the fact that he was told to take another shower. Ryou couldn't tell, but he was glad either way.  
It didn't, however, take long for Bakura to regain his composure.  
'I need two days. Minimum. I can't just go to another hotel looking like _this_.'  
Ryou furrowed his brows as he pondered on Bakura's demand, hesitant to agree so eagerly to it before he had found the catch -there _had_  to be one, there always was-, but he came up with nothing. It was perfectly reasonable even for the other's standards.  
'Fine. Two days,' Ryou finally agreed with a slow nod. 'You get the guest room.'  
A deep frown appeared on Bakura's face. The guest room? The last time he had seen it, it had resembled more of a storeroom than anything else. Unfinished tabletop dioramas, binders filled to the brim with character sheets, stories, and game notes, as well as personal belongings which didn't fit anywhere else had taken up the majority of the room. Actually sleeping there had been almost impossible.  
Ryou huffed at Bakura's obvious displeasure and crossed his arms in front of his chest, not willing to change his mind on that matter. There was no way he would share his bed with the other like good old friends or even something more.  
'It's either that or the couch. Your pick.'  
'Okay, okay. I'll fucking take it,' Bakura grumbled before he turned around to slowly make his way down the hallway to get his second -and, in his opinion, quite unnecessary- shower for the day. As long as he got some rest out of it in the end, he might as well play along with Ryou's new antics for now. Not that he had much of a choice in his current condition anyway.  
'Oh, and spirit?'  
'What?' Bakura reluctantly stopped in his tracks, his head turning towards Ryou's voice almost out of instinct. He just wanted the formalities to be over with already.  
'You still owe me information.'  
Grinding his teeth, Bakura walked the last metres to the bathroom.  
He didn't owe anyone anything. Especially not Ryou. And especially not now.  
'We'll see about that.'

The bathroom itself was a painful reminder to Bakura how much better his life had been before he had lost his final Shadow Game to the Pharaoh. While it didn't deserve the title "huge", it was still big enough to easily accommodate not only a shower but a bathtub as well. Spanish cedar decorated the walls where sand-coloured tiles didn't, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere while fluffy towels hung on the heater, inviting everyone who had taken a quick shower or a nice, long bath to use them.  
With a sigh, Bakura finally stepped forwards to properly look at himself in the mirror for the first time since his run-in with Alistair, and suddenly understood Ryou's earlier reaction. While it was easy to tell that there had been an attempt of cleaning himself, he still looked like something the cat had dragged in.  
Hesitantly, Bakura tilted his head to every side to get a better view at his overall condition, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight which greeted him. It was hard to believe that he ( _King of Thieves_ ), who had worked together with a GOD and ruled the darkness ( _became one with it_ ), was reduced to _this_  by some random fucker who had ripped him off.  
That he was forced to hide so he could lick his wounds in peace. It was pathetic. Weak. _Human._    
Short nails tried to dig themselves into the porcelain sink just to silently slip across the surface, denying him even this simple satisfaction, while he bared his teeth in something similar to a snarl. At least none of them were chipped.  
With a loud growl, his stomach churned and he felt saliva begin to gather in his mouth. Bakura sighed in defeat and let himself lean against the sink in case things got worse. He spat out. Pinkish fluid slowly ran down the inside of the otherwise perfectly clean sink, staining it. At least it wasn't pure blood any more like it had been in the back alley.  
He licked his lips, the taste of copper fresh on his tongue, and waited a little longer, until he was completely certain that nothing would happen, before he straightened his back as good as he could and carefully pulled the sweater over his head. The fabric, albeit being soft, scraped against a wound on his back and caused it to bleed again. Bakura winced.  
He carelessly dropped the sweater onto the floor and turned in front of the mirror. A huge bruise covered his side along with a few smaller ones and he was fairly certain that a rib had to be at least slightly damaged if the pain, which had followed a sharp intake of air, was any indication.  
His gaze dashed from his own image to a mirrored version of the door as he heard gentle fingers shyly knock three times.  
'What do you want?' he barked.  
'I have some fresh-' Ryou, having opened the door just enough to peek inside, stopped in the middle of his sentence as he saw Bakura's exposed upper torso. Everything he had originally wanted to say was lost on his tongue as he pressed the small stack of clothes firmly against his own body to hide his shaking hands. This was even worse than everything he had expected.  
'Bakura... Oh God...'  
'I'm fine. There's nothing you need to worry your ass off about.'  
Ryou stepped closer to him, transfixed by the colourful patterns which spread across Bakura's skin like a sick but unfinished painting; all blue and purple.  
'You need to go to a hospital! You might be bleeding internally.'  
'As I said, I'm fine. Your concern is _endearing_ , however.'  
'But...'  
'Leave me the fuck alone. Or do you want to take a shower with me so you can catch me in case I suddenly faint?' Bakura wiggled his eyebrows to tease the other man, but stopped as soon as he realised that its effect fell flat with his current looks. 'I'll live, landlord.'  
Ryou glanced at him once more, as if to see whether the other's wounds had miraculously healed during the short moment which had passed, and gently placed the clothes on top of a nearby counter before he retreated without a word, leaving Bakura alone behind, who just continued to strip before entering the shower.

Even though the hot water stung whenever it came in contact with an open wound, Bakura visibly relaxed as it ran down his body, taking dirt and blood along with it before disappearing in the drain. Now that he was safe, he let himself enjoy the firm pressure against his skin and sighed, closing his eyes. This was nothing in comparison to the quick shower he had taken back at the hotel and by now he wasn't even sure whether it had deserved that name in the first place. He grabbed the bottle of hair shampoo, poured some onto his hand, and began to massage it into his thick hair as good as he could, not minding the change in smell. While the scent was still something Bakura only could describe as "fruity" -something Ryou always had a weak spot for-, it was different from the strawberry shampoo he remembered it being. The bottle revealed it to be "green apples", which struck Bakura as odd even though he couldn't tell why. He shrugged it off and moved on. It wasn't any of his concern any more.  
After scrubbing himself as clean as he could without disturbing any wounds or putting too much pressure on the bruises, he rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, almost stumbling as he shifted his whole weight onto his left leg. Bakura cursed under his breath as he caught himself just in time, the throbbing pain in his knee reminding him of the cause for it. Hesitant, he moved a few steps forwards to inspect himself once more, not caring that he left small puddles of water behind. Ryou would take care of that, he was sure.  
Now that he was clean, it was easier to keep track of his actual wounds and he realised that most of them had looked worse than they actually were. A few bandages and plasters and he would be as good as new. He snorted. _As if._  
He dried off and changed into the clothes Ryou had brought him, humming in content as the soft, warm fabric of the pyjamas hugged his abused form while still being loose enough to not rub against his wounds. One of Ryou's favourites, he realised as he inspected the small print of a smiling ghost which happily exclaimed "Boo~". The colours had faded a bit after several wash cycles and the ghost had a light-blue tint at the edges, but besides of that it was as good as new.  
Bakura combed through his wet hair with harsh strokes, the resulting pain in his scalp barely noticeable in comparison to everything else, and finally freed it from every knot. Once he was satisfied with the result, he dropped the brush back on the counter before he made his way back while rubbing his hair dry with a towel.  
'I'm going to prepare the guest room for you,' Ryou informed him as their paths crossed in the narrow hallway. It was obvious that he tried to sound as nonchalantly as possible, but Bakura didn't take the bait. He knew that this wasn't an ordinary room-mate situation for either of them.  
'Will it take long?'  
'A few more minutes.'  
Bakura nodded and returned to the living room where he laid down on the couch with a long sigh and made himself comfortable. His hand trailed along the back of the couch lazily, almost petting the familiar leather-like fabric. _Welcome home, indeed._  
It didn't take long until his sleep deprivation began to take its toll on him and he, finally lying down somewhere comfortable and warm, began to feel himself getting closer to the brink of sleep, his hand slowly starting to cease its movements while long, white lashes fluttered shut. Bakura knew that he could sleep later and even should. Especially since accidentally falling asleep on the couch wasn't something he had intended to do. Or accidentally falling asleep anywhere for that matter. No, he should appear to be in control. At least of himself. Sleepily, he rolled onto his side and curled up a little.  
He didn't even hear Ryou calling his name any more.

As he woke up again, the sky outside had changed from dark blue to pitch black and the only light reflecting from the windows was the flashing screen of the TV. It was a clear, starry night and he could almost smell the fresh air outside. Still feeling slightly drowsy, Bakura blinked a few times until he remembered where he was: Ryou's living room. His couch.  
Feeling a slight tingling in his feet, he wanted to sit up but a warm weight on his legs prevented him from anything beyond propping himself up on his elbows.  
'Oh, you're awake,' Ryou muttered, shifting slightly to allow the other to move.  
'It's a pity that I didn't die in my sleep,' Bakura grunted, his voice still hoarse from sleep.  
'That's not what I meant.'  
Bakura stared at the TV, his brain still too numb to process anything which was going on in the film. He owlishly blinked a few times in hopes that at least some things began to make sense soon. To no avail.  
'Do you want to eat anything?' Ryou finally asked. His gaze wandered over the other who, despite now being able to move, still stayed frozen in his half-lying position.  
Bakura shook his head "no", just having discovered the blanket Ryou had thrown over him while he had slept.  
'At least something small? You have to eat, spirit.'  
'I'm _not_ hungry.'  
'I'll make us some tea. I think we both need it,' Ryou finally said with a sigh as he got up and trotted into the kitchen where he turned on the light. 'Do you want a certain type? Green, white... Earl Gray? Indian Chai?' He began to ramble on about different tea sorts, not even noticing that he had ran out of at least fifty percent of them, while he opened the cupboards to seek two clean cups, which he placed on top of the kitchen counter. Tea was something familiar. Tea was comfort.  
'Ryou,' Bakura interrupted. He sounded exasperated.  
'Yes?'  
'I don't fucking care. Just give me something.'  
Ryou quickly apologised, not even noticing the other's casual use of his name, and began to roam through a carefully assimilated combination of different tea sorts which he kept stored away in a wooden box. His slender fingers stopped at a white tea, which promised to be rich in taste and bore the fanciful title _Moonlight White_.  
'Since when are you in Domino City?' Ryou asked, not knowing what else to say. He picked two tea bags and placed one in each of the cups, suddenly feeling stupid.  
'Two months.'  
Ryou simply nodded. Two months. Two months which Bakura had spent somewhere. Anywhere else. However, there was a more urgent question than 'Where did you sleep?' and 'What did you do?' still lingering on the very tip of his tongue, ready to slither out any time, but it was also the question he dreaded the most. Not the question per se -it was harmless enough by itself- but rather the answer he would get in return: _How did you come back?_  
Bakura on the other hand was glad about the silence that followed, unaware of the other's inner turmoil. He could have noticed something if he had watched him more closely but he didn't, too tired to care about anything else than his immediate surroundings. He lazily patted the table in front of him until he felt the thin slip of paper he had seen earlier, between his fingers. It crumbled slightly in his hand as he picked it up and he had to pull it closer to his face to properly read the number in the dim light. A phone number starting with +20. _Egypt?_  
'Why did you follow me this evening? You know where I live.'  
Bakura tensed up at the other's sudden question. He hadn't seen Ryou at all before arriving his apartment. Hell, it had been by lucky chance that he even caught him at home. For all he knew, he might as well have found the apartment abandoned by its occupant who had suddenly decided that it was time for a sleepover at Yugi's or some crap like that. He stared at Ryou's back.  
'I didn't,' he said, pondering on his own reply as if he had missed something within the greater picture, and finally sat up to get a better view at the younger man in the small kitchen.  
Ryou poured some hot water into the cups, stopping mid-movement for a short moment as he heard the answer but not fully realising the true meaning of it just then, before he remembered what he had intended to do and forced himself to pour some milk into his own tea. He made his way back after turning off the light again, casting the two men in darkness once more.  
'What do you mean?' he asked slightly dumbfounded as he settled back down on the couch and handed the hot cup to Bakura, who greedily took it to warm his hands.  
The warmth was a welcomed change and he closed his eyes in bliss after making sure that Ryou wasn't looking at him any more, holding the cup closer to his face. The hot steam brushed against his nose, carrying the spicy scent of the tea.  
'I didn't follow you,' Bakura repeated again, a bit slower as if Ryou's trouble to understand it had simply stemmed from an acoustic problem. His gaze met Ryou's panicked one and he narrowed his eyes. Okay, something was definitely not right.  
'What happened?'  
Ryou simply shook his head, his eyes fixed on his own cup of tea. His knuckles turned almost white and Bakura was surprised that he didn't accidentally crush it with his hands.  
'Let's get you patched up.'  
Before Bakura could even say anything, Ryou set his cup down -sparing it from an unmerciful death-, and got up just to disappear in the darkness of his apartment. He reappeared merely a moment later, carrying a first-aid kit and some other stuff Bakura didn't recognize. Without a warning, Ryou turned on the ceiling light, temporarily blinding his new room-mate.  
'Can you take off your top?'  
Bakura begrudgingly complied, cautiously watching as the other man sat down next to him and began to rummage through the kit. It was obvious that Ryou knew exactly what he had to look for and Bakura began to silently wonder how often he already had to do this during his absence.  
As carefully as he could, Ryou gently dabbed at the wounds with cotton to clean them.  
'What's the matter with the phone number?' Bakura asked.  
Ryou let his eyes wander to the wrinkled paper before shifting his attention back to his work at hand, his expression unreadable.  
'My father's. And I would like you to keep your hands off my belongings.'  
Bakura snorted. 'Thought you knew the number of your daddy-o by heart?'  
A yelp escaped him as Ryou applied a little too much pressure on one of his bruises. Bakura glared at him but it went unnoticed by Ryou, who just applied povidone-iodine ointment on the more severe wounds as if nothing had happened before wrapping them with aseptic gauze.  
'Which film is this?' Bakura asked, trying to sound as passive as possible while Ryou went on with his work, gentle hands occasionally brushing against his skin.  
' _The Mummy returns_.'  
Bakura chuckled, deeming it oddly appropriate considering his own current predicament, and began to poke the teabag in his cup with his fingertips, watching it resurface every time.  
'Where did you stay until today?'  
'I got around. Mostly stayed in cheap hotels down south.'  
Ryou fell silent again, not knowing what to say in immediate return to that. The hotels just as the rest of the south-east of Domino were notorious for a certain type of clientèle. And to imagine Bakura among them? It was hard for Ryou to do. But then they didn't ask unnecessary questions which was apparently something both, Bakura and Ryou alike, favoured lately. He looked at Bakura, one question easily readable on his face: _Why didn't you come to me first?_  
Bakura met his gaze but avoided answering the unspoken question, which accusingly hung in the air between them. He has had his quite personal reasons to stay away from the other for so long and still wasn't sure whether he actually had been ready to return. It was, however, none of Ryou's fucking business what he did and why he did it. And he would be glad if it stayed that way, thank you very much.  
Ryou, having finished treating the wounds on Bakura's wrists in the meantime, turned his focus to Bakura's face.  
'You look awful.'  
'Thanks a lot, landlord.'  
He reached up to tug a strand of hair behind Bakura's ear to get a better view of his face but stopped mid-movement, curious brown eyes following every movement of his hand. At this point, Ryou couldn't hold back any more and reached out to carefully place a hand against the other's cheek, just to find the flesh under his palm to be warm. His eyes widened in surprise at this realisation, even though it had to be expected. Bakura had a human body to call his own now, after all. However, it felt odd to actually associate the Spirit with anything else than the ever-cold metal of the Millennium Ring. Therefore, Ryou didn't pull his hand back again immediately as he had originally intended to, and even went as far as to curl his fingers slightly to cup Bakura's cheek despite it being noticeable that the other had to fight an inner urge to withdraw from this unwanted closeness.  
Bakura observed everything, not used to being touched with such a tenderness by anyone any more. Usually, everything which involved him was rough, forceful, and sharp like broken glass. Often enough even deadly. This current action therefore went against everything he knew and it irritated him to the point that his flight instincts kicked in.  
Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it wasn't a thoroughly unpleasant feeling and, had he been anyone else in this world, he might even have slightly leaned into the touch at that moment just to get more of it. But he wasn't, and therefore just quietly endured this procedure until he felt the other's slender fingers lightly and agonisingly slow drag along his neck before Ryou's hand finally came to rest upon his hard muscular chest, rising and sinking with every breath, where he could feel his strong and even heartbeat.  
By then, every single muscle in the Bakura's body had tensed up and he narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering what Ryou was expecting from this action.  
'Are you done feeling me up now?' Bakura asked bluntly before reclining against the couch to get out of Ryou's reach, finally deeming it enough body contact for now.  
Ryou let his arm drop heavily to his side. This had been the first time he had actively touched the other and it had excited him more than it should have. Usually, he only had been able to feel him as a looming presence at the back of his mind similar to the slight pressure of an oncoming headache. But now Bakura didn't only have a body which radiated heat, making Ryou want to lean against the other, but also had a beating heart. He was breathing. Alive.  
'You should have gone to a hospital,' Ryou remarked before he picked up where he had left off and began to treat the cut on Bakura's cheek which by now had begun to scab. 'Just to be sure.'  
Bakura huffed. 'And what was I supposed to tell them, smartass? That I got beaten up by some fucking thugs after they ripped me off? _Oh, by the way, my name is the same as his. We're brothers and our parents were just really lazy, doctor._ ' He tried to imitate the pitch of Ryou's voice as he spoke, mostly to annoy him.  
'You had enough time to get one of your own,' Ryou snapped and dropped everything into the first aid kit before closing it with more force than necessary. He got to his feet and returned to the bathroom, the short moment of prior fascination already forgotten.  
In the meantime, Bakura put on his pyjamas top again and returned to drinking his tea, his eyes constantly trained on the dark hallway leading to the other rooms. Ryou had always been an unpredictable force in his opinion, but this was driving him nuts. On one hand, he wanted him gone as soon as possible but on the other he, deep, deep down, seemed to care about his well-being. But then it was probably simply a part of Ryou's nature to be nurturing. Bakura took another sip just as Ryou returned and made a quick beeline to the kitchen, before he sat down on the couch again, throwing a cold pack at him which he barely caught.  
'Press this against your eye. It should reduce the swelling.'  
Bakura grumbled but did as he was told, shifting his attention back to the film.

They fell silent again and simply watched while Bakura finished his cup of tea. After a while, Ryou leaned closer to him to pull up the thin blanket which had carelessly pooled behind him, and threw it over the two of them, scooting closer to fit underneath the fabric as well. Without a second thought, he pulled up his legs onto the couch to get more comfortable and leaned slightly to the left to counterbalance the change of his position, thereby leaning into the side of Bakura. It was only as he felt the other's body against his own that he actually noticed what he had done, having subconsciously sought the comfort he usually had while sitting on his couch alone. His heart fluttered against his ribs like a caged hummingbird as he tensed up, waiting for Bakura to react in any way. As nothing happened, however, he let himself relax with a sigh, not even bothering to readjust the shared blanket which had just dropped down to his waist.  
Bakura turned to look at Ryou who, caught red-handed, glanced up at him sheepishly, silently begging for permission to stay like this with his doe-like eyes.  
'And what the hell do you think you're doing now?'  
Ryou shrugged in defeat, not having a good enough explanation besides finally having begun to unwind after all the stress of this day, and he almost sat up again, an apology already on his lips, just to be pulled close once more as Bakura wrapped his arm around his shoulder.  
'Stay.'  
The word was barely audible and almost missed by the young man who turned his focus to Bakura, who this time he didn't avert his gaze from the TV even once, apparently having become strangely engrossed in the film.  
Ryou was too enthralled by the dull brown eyes that faced the screen to care about the currently ongoing battle between Anubis' army and the Medjai, and smart enough to not question the other's motives behind the unexpected reaction. Instead he simply nestled into Bakura's side and, feeling bold due to his unbelievable luck so far, rested his head against the other's firm chest, his head softly moving up and down with every breath he took. This regular movement paired with the incredible warmth that quickly began to form between their bodies soon made Ryou feel extremely cosy and even a bit sleepy.  
He only got startled twice: As Bakura had to lean forward to put his now empty cup on top of the small table, having grown tired of holding it, and as he adjusted the blanket, thereby wrapping both of them into a tight, fuzzy cocoon made out of wool.  
If his fluttering eyelids were an indicator, Ryou was currently in his own personal heaven and dangerously close to dozing off. The thin fabric of Bakura's top was soft against his cheek and smelled deliciously of the the older man, whose heart still thrummed close to his ear and carried him even further towards a peaceful slumber with every beat. He felt safe, and during this one sleep-induced moment, he even thought that Bakura's return wasn't all that bad.

By the time the film was finished and the ending credits rolled over the screen, Ryou's breathing was deep and even, and one of his hands had curled tightly around the hem of Bakura's pyjama top as if to prevent him from disappearing again without further notice.  
Bakura looked down at the sleeping form of the other and silently wondered whether this was in any way similar to what Ryou must have felt as he, himself, had gracelessly fallen asleep on the couch earlier that day. He doubted it because he didn't know what to do in this situation. Should he push him off or shake him awake? Tell him to get the fuck up?  
No, Ryou had known what to do with him. He had covered him with a blanket like a small babe and let him sleep. Technically speaking, Bakura owed him at least that much. Until he got uncomfortable that was.  
Without thinking about it, one of his hands had strayed to Ryou's face and ever-so-gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face to tuck it behind his ear. He had never cared much about the person who had been his destined host before. About Ryou Bakura, whose surname he had stolen to take as his own just as he had done with his body.  
To be honest, he didn't know why he should begin to care now. He didn't feel a thing as he caressed Ryou's cheek and neither did he as the younger one nuzzled the palm of his hand with a quiet mewl. Like a kitten.  
He had only allowed him to get so close because it had felt good. Not only was it nice to feel the warmth of another body so close but also because something seemed to have clicked into its rightful place inside of him. Something which had gone missing without him noticing it.  
Bakura's hand lazily dropped down to Ryou's side where it stayed while he fished for the remote with his free hand so he could switch channels until he found something that caught his interest. He stopped at the news, at a documentation about a new high-class restaurant which had opened in Tokyo just a few weeks ago (serving Tokyo's finest fish according to the female narrator) and finally at a rerun of _Wolf's Rain_. With a grunt, he let the remote fall onto the couch and leaned back, feeling Ryou adjust to his new position as well. _Great._  
'Finding paradise, my ass. There's only shit wherever the fuck you go. Might as well-'  
He tensed up as a delicate hand, lead by nothing more than gravity, lightly brushed against his crotch before landing in his lap, where it stayed. Okay, that was it! No matter how good it felt to have Ryou close, play-time was over.  
With one swift move, Bakura nudged Ryou harshly in hopes of waking him up. He received a low grunt as an answer before two chocolate-brown eyes slowly fluttered open and, after a long moment of disorientation, focused on him with a confused and sleepy expression.  
'Go the fuck to bed when you want to sleep.'  
Ryou blinked a few times before yawning quietly, exposing everything beyond his pearl-white teeth to a very annoyed Bakura.  
'Not tired.'  
His head plopped down against the older man's shoulder just as he had finished the last word and Bakura could actually hear him getting a lungful of his scent. What the fuck?  
'Like hell you are. Now move. Shoo, shoo.' He rolled his shoulder with every 'shoo' to make sure that the other would get annoyed by it and, if he was lucky, actually sit up. All he did get, however, was an almost feral growl and a possessive hug as two thin arms encircled his waist tightly. At least, his cock was now out of reach of that wandering hand.  
_Seems like this kitten actually grew some damn claws while I was gone... Cute._  
'Watchu watching, Baku? 's not The Mummy anymore.' Ryou's voice was warm against Bakura's neck.  
'These guys are trying to find a fucking plant to get to paradise. That's what I gathered at least.'  
'A plant?'  
'That's what I said. And stop hugging me. Fuck, I had lovers less clingy than you.'  
Ryou was hit full-force by Bakura's last sentence, and for a short moment he didn't know what irritated him more about it. The fact that there was a mention of _lovers_  (not just one but several) or that he was clingy and thereby an annoyance. He knew even less what to reply to that. Therefore he simply removed himself from the other with a speed as if he had burned himself and scooted to the far end of the couch, not caring that he didn't only lose the warmth of Bakura but also the comfort of his blanket.  
'Sorry... I... Oh God...' If he had still felt slightly sleepy before, then everything was gone now and he was only left with the harsh, cold reality of being awake. Seeking any form of comfort, Ryou hugged his knees, his gaze forced onto the bright TV screen.  
Bakura snorted at the other's sudden flight and stretched until he heard his back crack several times before he relaxed again with a satisfied sigh, instantly feeling better. He turned around enough to rest his now pain-free back against the armrest and stretched out one leg behind Ryou's back, the other hanging off the couch.  
While his new position looked somewhat sexual (especially to Ryou who had quite an interesting view of Bakura's body), it was born out of the simple desire to get at least somewhat comfortable coupled with him just not giving a fuck.  
'Wh-what's with the black wolf?' Ryou asked quietly while desperately trying to avoid staring at the other man who had spread himself so shamelessly next to him. The dark, sleek creature with the bi-coloured eyes had therefore been a welcomed distraction.  
'Hmm?' Bakura glanced back at the TV to see which one he had meant.  
'The one who looks like you after going in for the kill,' clarified Ryou.  
'Charming as always, landlord.' Clearly disinterested in anything that actually went on in the show, Bakura lowered himself a bit further, his knee lightly bumping against Ryou's back in the process. The fact that the other's body went rigid for a few seconds in reaction to that didn't go unnoticed by him.  
'Probably wants to get to paradise as well. It's all they seem to fucking do.'  
Ryou hummed in thought but fell silent for a long while, slowly beginning to relax again.  
'He reminds me of Pegasus. You know... with the eye.' Suddenly a frown appeared on the young his face, two white eyebrows furrowing momentarily. 'I wonder what happened to him. The last time I've seen him was at Duelist Kingdom.'  
'Same.' Bakura licked his lips, a slight grin appearing on his face. Oh, he knew just too well what had happened to him. The memory still held a faint coppery taste.  
'I think I still have that fake-Eye somewhere,' Ryou suddenly exclaimed with an almost childish excitement.  
'Good luck looking for it,' Bakura uttered before getting up after gracefully removing his leg from its prior position behind Ryou's back, glad that it was his right one, and walked into the kitchen. Unlike the other, he didn't bother with turning on the lights and yet successfully manoeuvred himself to the fridge without running into a chair or the table first. The machine eagerly began to hum as he opened the door and a soft glow temporarily illuminated the room, throwing huge demonic shadow creatures onto the opposite wall.  
'What are you looking for?' Ryou asked, having heard the familiar sound of the fridge-door opening.  
'Something stiff to drink. According to the time on your DVD-player it's 2.30AM already and if this night is going to be like any of the other fucked up nights I had so far, then it's going to be a long one. Might as well make it at least somewhat enjoyable.'  
2.30AM? Ryou had to check twice (the green numbers had already changed to 2.32AM by now) but could only confirm what Bakura had said.  
_Shit._ He had to get up early this morning to get ready for work. If he went to bed immediately, he might still be able to catch three to four hours of sleep.  
He had already formed an excuse in his mind as Bakura returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine, which he had found. All he could do now was to watch the elder man remove the cork with his teeth before pouring each of them a glass.  
'Cheers.' Bakura held up his glass for a short moment as if to toast but didn't wait for Ryou to react before he took a gulp and sat down.  
'What did you mean with 'the other fucked up nights'?' Ryou asked hesitantly, slowly swirling the wine in his glass but not taking a sip. In his mind he was still imagining himself going to work like something out of _The Walking Dead_. Which would not make a good impression after having had a day off.  
'None of your business, landlord.'  
Accepting this answer (what else could he have done?), he simply nodded and took a small sip. The wine had been cheap but he knew that it wouldn't take him much to get tipsy.  
'Do you want to watch another film? I got Paranormal Activity on DVD.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Darcia always made me think of Pegasus. Might have been the eye-thing or the wife-thing.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	3. Just Pretend You're Okay

Blinding, bright light flooded the room and caused Ryou to stir in his sleep. Small, tentative movements as if to to test whether it was safe to signal being alive to the harsh world outside already. With a soft groan, he attempted to pull the warm blanket further over his face as a last defence against the invading rays of the morning sun, just to find it stuck, thereby ruining his last chance to return to the dream which still lingered at the edge of his mind, ready to slip into nothingness at any given moment. Despite its slowly fading existence, it still teased him with vivid images of someone who had stayed the night without prior offers of a certain kind and who had promised the possibility of a life finally filled with bright laughter, gentle kisses, and soft touches. Promises, which gently tugged at the corners of his mouth, causing the slightest smile of genuine happiness to appear on his face.

Though Ryou couldn't even remember any more who it had been ( _Don't leave. Please, don't leave_...), it was as if he could still feel the heavy weight of the other person’s arm resting on his side and the warmth of another body firmly pressed against his back.

Yet -as it always happened in these kind of situations-, a nagging feeling kept yelling at him that he was ignoring something incredibly important which he couldn't... shouldn't... mustn't miss. Something big. Something...

Abruptly, Ryou was wide awake, his eyes snapping open and his heart racing in his chest. Work! He had to go to work. Soon!

Before he could even realise where he was -his consciousness lazily dragging behind as it still adjusted to being pushed in charge so suddenly-, an empty bottle of wine as well as two (two?) glasses and cups, which were just as empty, greeted him. The stack of magazines had crudely been shoved aside to accommodate for everything. Sleepy, brown eyes blinked once before refocusing again, causing a pair of white brows to furrow in confusion as their owner tried to make sense of everything. The TV, which came into his view right afterwards, was turned off, but the small red standby-light signalled that no one had bothered to pull the plug.

It was only then that he actually began to register that he was indeed lying on the couch instead of the comfortable king-sized futon in his bedroom and that the arm on his side did not vanish along with the last memories of his dream as he had feared it would just a moment earlier. Neither did the warm breath which slowly but rhythmically blew against his exposed neck and caused his soft hair to tickle the sensitive skin. Or the... _Oh, my goodness._

Bakura. It was Bakura who lay sound asleep behind him and nonchalantly pressed his morning-wood against Ryou's ass. It was also him who let out a quiet but content sigh while tightening his grip on Ryou, whose heart was still thumping wildly against his ribcage. Albeit for a whole different reason now.

 

Ryou couldn't remember the amount of nights during which he had lain awake, thinking of similar situations to happen to him. Nights which had felt just a bit too quiet after every one of his friends had said good-bye, leaving his apartment too empty. His rooms too quiet. His bed too big.

At first, it had begun as nothing more than pathetic little mind-games which had wormed their way into his subconsciousness until they had been everything he could think of. Stupid what-if scenarios that had gone too far. Things which were never supposed to become reality and therefore had been safe to toy with. In his opinion, at least.

It had been strangers he had deemed attractive, who had occupied his mind and he had wanted to keep it that way; meaningless and temporary. No strings attached. But every now and then he had noticed his thoughts start to drift to the nameless entity with whom he had shared a mental space for almost his whole life. He had dreamed of a proud and cocky Thief King who, freed of the darkness, had returned to him, wanting him. Who would push him down onto his mattress and make love to him until dawn before he finally -completely spent- curled up at his side where he stayed. Warm. Cosy. Protective. _His_. Comforting thoughts to fall asleep to when no one else was around. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ryou had dreamed of things he knew which could never be, simply because Bakura didn't see him like that, no matter what happened. To him he would always be nothing more than a former vessel -the host to a parasite- with whom he could stay out of mere convenience.

Yet, none of these things matter in dreams and, over time, fact began to mix with fiction. And Ryou didn't care. He was lonely and never expected Bakura to return to him to prove him wrong anyway. Something he always became painfully aware of whenever he was lying in his bed alone, his hand sticky, and his very own name still on his lips.

Sometimes, he laughed at how narcissistic his display would have looked to others, but on the inside he just fell deeper into a hole he was happily digging for himself.  

 

The only one who had noticed him drifting had been Marik, too familiar with the personal kind of darkness himself, despite in an extremely different way. He had caught Ryou in every way he could and for a while it had been enough for the both of them. Marik had offered the thrill his own life lacked and Ryou had the looks. It worked for both in a perverse way and somehow they healed while never making anything official.

Unfortunately -like everything in his life-, it didn't last and, four months later, Marik had to return to Egypt with a smile on his lips while Yugi and the others waved him goodbye at the airport. Ryou had felt as if he was choking on air, no matter how deeply he breathed, but it was okay. He had been ready to move on. To start anew. And, in the end, he had managed to do exactly that despite a few prior turbulences.

 

But now his very own monkey had returned to its former position on his back and he didn't know how to react. He wanted to push him away, to escape, and to finally be free. Yet it was so easy to let himself succumb to old temptations instead. To see which buttons he could press to coax any kind of reaction out of the other. Especially now that Bakura appeared to be physically weakened, which gave Ryou an actual advance in their current situation.

Of course, he still was a force to be dealt with -Ryou would always be perfectly aware of that-, yet _something_ seemed to have changed about him. The Bakura he knew would have never ended up beaten up like that by some thugs. Obviously, he couldn't access Shadow magic any more but that didn't prevent him from fighting with literally anything else. The thief was an opportunist first and a survivor second, and people like that usually don't give in so easily.

Ryou wasn't certain what exactly was wrong with the other, but he was firmly set on finding the missing piece in the bigger picture, his natural curiosity having been sparked.

For all these reasons and some more, it was extremely alluring to stay on the couch and in Bakura's arms (he could just call in sick at work later; no one would suspect a thing), if it meant that he was able to get a little more of this very real closeness he currently shared with the other. To feel the older man's body against his own a little longer. God, he wouldn't even mind Bakura's morning breath wash over his face in regular intervals.

However, the rational part of Ryou's brain knew that he couldn't stay. This wasn't the tamed dream-version of the spirit he had grown used to, after all. No matter how much it felt like it in this moment. As soon as Bakura would wake up, he would most likely push him away and deny everything (or worse: treat him like the annoyance he apparently seemed to be). No, he didn't need to put himself through that first thing in the morning.

Therefore, Ryou did what he deemed to be the responsible thing to do and carefully removed the arm from his side, his fingers brushing against the bandaged wrist in the process, before slowly sitting up with a long, regret-filled sigh. Behind him, Bakura groaned softly while adjusting to his new position.

_Don't look at him when he's asleep...Don'tLookDon'tLookDon'tLook..._

Ryou closed his eyes and mentally counted to three to distract himself from any unwanted images of Bakura with dishevelled hair and still cosy with sleep, before opening them again. 6.54AM.

As if to mock him, the bright green numbers on the DVD-player flashed in front of him, reminding him that he had less than twenty minutes left to get ready before he would _definitely_ be too late.

Cursing under his breath, Ryou quickly got up and sprinted into his bedroom where he immediately emptied his closet almost completely in search of something suitable to wear.

He was going to be too late. After his day off. Reeking of alcohol nonetheless.

Ryou wanted to scream at no one in particular. Mostly at himself. For not going to bed earlier. For drinking something in the early morning. For not finding something to wear.

He groaned in frustration before finally settling for a mint-green t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans. Giving his alarm clock a death-glare for not stopping to count the minutes, he stripped in the most appalling way known to mankind and threw his clothes onto his bed before putting on the new shirt, followed by a pair of boxers and socks. He then hopped towards the bathroom in an attempt of pulling up the jeans while walking, only to end up knocking down a picture as he stumbled against the wall with his whole weight. Oh, he hated his life.

In the bathroom, he relieved himself while thinking about the bruises which would soon appear on his upper arm and whether he should change into a long-sleeved shirt to cover them up. He decided against it while brushing his teeth. _A jacket will do_ , he thought as he harshly freed his hair from any knots.

As he deemed himself at least somewhat presentable, he hurried to the kitchen where he downed a glass of orange juice -his taste-buds howling in disgust due to the still lingering taste of "fresh mint"- before scribbling a quick message about the time of his expected return onto a post-it note which he then stuck to the fridge, hoping that a bright yellow piece of paper would catch the other's attention at some point. Ryou then grabbed his keys and a jacket and got ready to leave.

Just as he was done tying his shoes, he returned to the kitchen one last time to hastily add the number of the delivery service to the note before finally leaving his apartment.

The soft ‘clack’ of the closing door was all Bakura noticed of this rushed morning routine.

 

Despite his earlier expectations, Ryou made it to work just in time and was tempted to thank any higher being that had taken care of that. Unfortunately for him, he never got the chance to do so since he was immediately cornered by Hiro Mizumaki, one of his rare friends at KaibaCorp, who had decided to take it upon himself to brief him for the day.

    'Mister Kaiba wants to see you,' Hiro added at last, nervously tucking a strand of light-brown hair behind his ear. 'I do not know what he wants. He just said that you should meet him in his office after the break. It sounded important.' His focus shifted every now and then from Ryou to his own feet as they made their way down to the small work offices. To keep up with Ryou’s long, elegant strides, he had fallen into a less-elegant half-jog.

    'It is never good when he asks for someone. It got Lenny fired last week.'

Ryou simply nodded, being perfectly aware of that incident. After all, he had also been one of the recipients of the E-Mail which had been sent to the whole development team from leonard.miller@kaiba-corp.jp and which had read nothing more than 'BAKURA IS A THIEF. BEWARE'. While he usually would have simply scoffed at things like that before deleting it without a second thought, the mail was sent exactly one day after Ryou had been forced to realise that Kaiba was anal enough to let some poor soul count the small but expensive Bluetooth headsets after work to make sure that none of them was missing.

To his own surprise, Leonard 'Lenny' Miller was gone the very next day after a long meeting in Kaiba's office.

'I'll be fine,' Ryou muttered while trying to fix the very same headset which he had accidentally taken home once the week before, behind his ear. It disappeared perfectly within the long, white hair.

    'Are you sure?' Huge green eyes stared up at him, concern clearly visible in them.

    'Positive. Now get to your work, Hiro.'

 

A shaky sigh escaped Ryou's lips as he stared at the slightly-worn cards in his hands, carefully fanned out as if he had expected a card he hadn't noticed before to suddenly appear. But no such thing happened, and all he could do was to put Doomcaliber Knight in defence position, set two cards, and end his turn with a quick glance at his LP counter. 400.

Always having preferred tabletop RPGs, he had never been an extremely good duelist to begin with, albeit well-versed with the rules and card effects, and it showed. Thankfully, he simply had to test the latest Duel Disk for any kind of malfunctions instead, and -as it had turned out over time- losing was a surprisingly good way to do exactly that.

On this day, Ryou was glad about that because, no matter how hard he had tried, he just couldn't get himself to concentrate on the currently ongoing duel, his mind constantly drifting from the upcoming conversation with Kaiba to the man who had still occupied his couch that morning. No thought was more pleasant than the other and both left him itching with an urge to do something, _anything_ , just to get an update on what to expect of his current situation. At the same time, he was constantly aware that all he actually could do was to wait it out until he got something he could work with. It made him feel helpless. Small. Lost.

As if on autopilot, he had played one card after the other, utilising old strategies which -after having gone through at least two hundred simulated duels since he had begun to work at KaibaCorp- had turned into hardly anything more than mere habits. Combos to which the AI had readily adjusted over time. And so, just as expected, Caius the Shadow Monarch destroyed his Knight, leaving Ryou's life-points unharmed. One card set. End turn. Draw.  

Worrying his lower lip, he let his thumb brush over the sharp edge of the card he had just drawn. Cautious. Waiting. What for, he didn't know.

His main priority for now should be to find _something_ he could present Kaiba later. To prove that he still belonged to the company. Just in case. The last thing he currently needed was to lose his job for whatever reason. As if he hadn't enough problems already...

Tired eyes drifted towards the clock hanging at the wall across from him before narrowing, subconsciously giving him a similar appearance to the spirit who had possessed his body for years. There was only enough time left to finish this one duel. So no matter what he wanted to do, he had to do it fast. His gaze returned to the new card in his hand.

By losing another 200LP, he could turn the current duel to his favour by using the effect of Dark Necrofear. A risky move since its possession effect could easily be countered by destroying it again.

The slightest smile tugged at the corner of Ryou’s lips as he remembered how reckless Bakura had seemingly played with the very same cards during Battle City. 'Risky' had always been part of their lives in one way or the other, but at what cost? He sighed, the smile gone again.

    'Computer, Code 2578.'

A female robotic voice informed him that the cheating detection was now successfully turned off and he slipped Dark Necrofear into the pocket of his jeans to replace it with another card: Change of Heart. With the confirmation of a second code, he let the cheating detection boot up again before he tried to activate the Spell Card. If the guys responsible for the coding had done a decent job, the words BANNED CARD should appear in bright, red letters on his Duel Disk.

As it was, however, the system happily accepted the card and even let him activate it, thereby allowing him to immediately take control of Caius. He attacked and got busted by Mirror Force. With his side of the field now completely open, it was easy for the AI to reduce even the last of Ryou's Life Points during its next turn. Well, _someone_ definitely would get fired today.

Not feeling any satisfaction despite his findings, Ryou turned off the system and watched the last holograms disappear in front of him. It always bothered him for days, if not even weeks, when anyone else got in trouble because of what he did. And that they would sooner or later. Especially, if he had to deal with the same error again after having reported it already.

During moments like these, Ryou wondered whether he hadn't actually sold his soul to KaibaCorp the day he had signed his employment contract with the same neat and steady handwriting he currently used to fill out one of the printed templates, which were handed to them before every test. The black ink still glistened in the unnatural neon-light of the room as he reread his final comments, dooming an unfortunate soul to a yet unknown fate. With a trained move he stacked the papers, clipped them together and left the simulation room after turning off even the last lights with the knowledge that he would most likely spend another day avoiding the break room unless he wanted to be met with death glares and hushed conversations.

 

In front of him lay one of the seemingly endless hallways which stretched throughout every floor in the modern building. They had recently been covered by a blue carpet which did little to remove the cold atmosphere which basically screamed 'professionalism' at everyone who dared to make it this far -'this' being the fourth floor.

Giving himself a small prep-talk, Ryou made his way down the vacant hallway until he reached the elevator. While he knew that he would most likely not be fired or could expect any other bad news, he couldn't help but to feel nervous despite his earlier words to Hiro.

Somewhere behind him, a door fell shut and startled him, the sound echoing softly. He quickly turned around out of reflex, his hand still hovering over the button to call the elevator as his eyes frantically searched the empty hallway for any sign of life. There was none. He was alone.

With his pulse still racing in his ears, Ryou took the elevator to the highest floor -the slow music making him even more agitated- where he left it again and hesitantly entered the first office to his left after a few gentle knocks to signal his arriving, mentally berating himself for his overreaction.

    'Come on in.'

Kaiba's secretary stopped typing for a moment and looked up to see who it was who entered her office. It was either a simple precaution or she had been waiting for someone special.

    'Good day, Bakura,' the blonde woman said, exposing her perfect white teeth as she gave him a smile, which apparently was meant to appear genuine. 'Mr. Kaiba awaits you already.'

    'Thank you, Susannah.' He didn't know why he had remembered her name out of all the people he had to deal with, but it made her smile even wider and she winked at him, causing a slight flush to creep onto his cheeks.

    'You're more than welcome, dear.'

Without giving him another glance she returned to her work as if he had suddenly disappeared into thin air and Ryou was left behind in a state of slight confusion at her sudden change in behaviour before he finally knocked on the massive wooden doors that lead to the actual office of KaibaCorp's CEO.

    'It's open.'

A slight shiver ran involuntary through Ryou's body as he heard Kaiba's dominant voice and he stood a moment too long at the door, hesitating. His heart had begun to beat faster again -as it did quite often lately- and he started to wonder whether he should see a doctor about it. _"Game tester at KaibaCorp, aged 19, died of heart failure."_ It would definitely make a good headline for the newspaper. Not a good one for Seto Kaiba, however.

Finally returning to his senses, Ryou opened the door and stepped into the by far larger office of the young president, instantly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. A pair of piercing blue eyes focused on him and Ryou had to lick his dry lips.

    'Y-you wanted to see me?' So much for being positive about this conversation.

    'Yes. Why don't you sit down, Bakura?' Kaiba gestured towards the empty chair standing across of him before his focus shifted a bit lower. 'Are these the test results of this morning?'

    'Huh? Oh, yes.' He walked over to the desk and handed Kaiba the papers before sitting down in the offered chair. This way his legs couldn't give in at least.

Wringing his hands in his lap, he watched the other skim through his notes with a low hum. Whether it was one of approval or not, he couldn't tell.

    'The latest ban-list _still_ isn't implied properly. Of course, it checks the deck when it's first inserted, as it should, but if a card is switched at a later point, it is possible to play cards which aren't allowed.' Ryou began to ramble on about his latest findings to distract himself from the heavy silence which had begun to loom over the room. His eyes wandered from the CEO in front of him towards the large glass windows which took up almost ninety percent of the wall. It wouldn't be long until it rained, if the dark clouds were an indicator.

    'Did you manage to do it without turning off parts of the supervising system?'

Their eyes met again for a short moment and Kaiba was reminded of a frightened snow bunny. Large, brown eyes, pupils dilated in fear, amidst soft, white fur.

    'No, but if you give me...'

Ryou was harshly silenced by the sound of the papers being dropped onto the desk.

    'I'll look into it later. There is something else I needed to talk to you about.’ Kaiba ripped out a page of a notebook and quickly scribbled something onto it. 'I have an important business meeting this evening and, unfortunately, am expected to come in company.'

Not knowing what to say, Ryou blinked a few times in confusion before he simply nodded. He had no idea where this conversation was supposed to be going, but as long as his job wasn't in danger, he could at least somewhat relax.

    'Now as you may know, it's hard for me to stay around anyone of these idiots for too long and I can hardly imagine myself eating dinner with any of them.'

    Ryou perked up at Kaiba's last words. 'Dinner?'

A smirk of success appeared on Kaiba's face and he leaned slightly forward.

    'Yes. Interested?'

    'I... uh... '

    'Maybe this will help you to make a decision.'

The previously written paper was turned towards Ryou for him to read. He opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish on land, as he slowly realised that the large number was supposed to represent a sum of money.

    'You could easily find someone for less than that,' Ryou blurted out before he could reconsider his words.

    Kaiba tensed up. 'I'm not looking for a whore to spend the night, Bakura. This would simply be the payment for your extra hours.'

Ryou lowered his gaze in defiance, a dark blush appearing on his face.

    'I didn't mean... it's just... why me?'

    'You're honest. You don't constantly kiss my ass. You're one of my best employees. You're presentable. Do I need to continue?'

    'No.' A stagnant pause followed by a sigh of something akin to resignation. 'I will do it.'

    'Perfect. You will be picked up at seven. Make sure to wear something fancy.'

 

Ryou let himself into his apartment and dropped the keys into the wooden bowl before he took off his shoes. During the whole drive home, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the conversation he has had with Kaiba. His decision to ask him (him, of all people!) to be his acquaintance for the evening still baffled the young man. There were over 200 people working at KaibaCorp, and yet he should be the only one who was presentable? His best employee? Ryou snorted at that thought. All he was, was a game tester. One of many nonetheless. Of course, they had in some way interacted with each other before he had begun to work for the young CEO, but that could hardly be tipping the scales to his favour in this case. In the end, it had been mostly Bakura who had taken his body for a joy ride during that time. With a sigh, he trotted into the kitchen where the yellow piece of paper still adorned the fridge. Speaking of which...

    'Bakura?' he hesitantly called out just to be greeted by silence. Not being too bothered by it (he was probably not at home any more to steal something or to cause havoc otherwise), Ryou took a glass and filled it with water before taking a long sip. He was too busy with his own petty predicament he had gotten himself into to truly care about the other's whereabouts. Eating dinner with _Kaiba_? He shook his head in disbelief.

Slowly, he moved past the empty living-room towards the bedroom but stopped to pick up the picture he had knocked off the wall in the morning. Thankfully, it was still intact.

He gently brushed some dust off the glass before hanging it onto the wall once more, remembering the moment during which the picture had been taken as if it were yesterday.

It had been around a week after the Pharaoh had left for the afterlife, and the realisation that everything was truly over had just begun to settle upon all of them. No more Shadow Games to decide the fate of the world. No more danger. Freedom. (Silence. Emptiness. Loneliness.)

They had all gone to Burger World together to talk about the "good old times" (mostly about the Pharaoh and how much Yugi missed him, but he was allowed to miss his other half, wasn't he?) and their possible future. They had eaten together. Laughed.

The picture had been Tea's idea because they had all been together at this time and it would be a good reminder of their friendship. Yugi in the middle, Tea, Tristan and Joey at his left (Tristan hadn't been able to resist giving Joey bunny ears) and Ryou and Marik on the right, both looking slightly lost despite their bright smiles which just wouldn't reach the eyes.

They had never truly belonged and they knew it. Especially Marik.

After adjusting the picture slightly, Ryou continued his way towards his bedroom. He had a future to deal with and couldn't spent more time lingering in the past. It had never gotten him anywhere before.

He opened the door and was already halfway in his room as he suddenly stopped, his eyes focused on the form occupying his bed.

    'Bakura?' Ryou lowered his voice to not wake up the other (who had clearly just kicked the clothes off the bed before curling up in the middle of it), in case he should be asleep. He carefully shuffled closer until he reached the bed and could get a better view of the elder male.

While Bakura was in fact asleep, something was clearly wrong with him. Cold sweat had gathered at his way-too-pale forehead and he was shivering. Small little twitches which had been barely noticeable from afar.

Tentatively, Ryou reached out and gently placed his hand on Bakura's cheek not quite unlike the way he had done the day before. The skin underneath his fingertips was still warm but not hot. No fever. That was good. A bit cool, though.

Acting purely on instinct, Ryou lay down next to Bakura and curled up around him, pressing himself firmly against the shivering man. He pulled up the blanket to cover the both of them for further warmth. It was all he could do right now and he was painfully aware of that.

To be honest, he had no idea what was wrong with the other. He had been fine as he left, hadn't he? He had been more than fine the night before, at least.

Of course, he was most likely to be exhausted after all he had gone through. There was no denying in that. And considering the state of his apartment, all Bakura had done so far was to drag his weight from the living-room to Ryou's bed. But why was he shivering like this?

    'Kaiba invited me for dinner today,' Ryou began, not knowing why. 'It's a business meeting. I have no clue what I'm supposed to do there.' He pressed his head lightly against Bakura's shoulder, his hand beginning to rub up and down his side in an attempt to warm him up. 'I don't even know what to wear. What if I embarrass myself?'

Ryou kept talking to himself a little longer (about the upcoming dinner, about his day, his colleagues, his current life), his hand never stopping its by now slow and almost sensual movements, and soon he felt the shivering cease. He saw that as an improvement.

Letting out a soft sigh, he nuzzled closer and fell silent for a while. His hand strayed from Bakura's side to his chest where it sought his heartbeat. It was steady.

    'You were cold,' Ryou suddenly muttered into Bakura's ear as realisation dawned on him, not expecting an actual answer from the still sleeping male. 'Your body is too exhausted to even keep up its own temperature. That's why you've let me stay close during the movie and why you slept next to me... You need me as your personal little heater. You're here because you need me to survive and when you got what you need you'll push me away.' Hearing it worded like that, Ryou could feel his fragile little heart shatter like a dropped glass figurine which had been repaired several times without the glue never having had the time to dry. It didn't break, it simply fell apart.

He didn't even know whether his theory was true but it sounded reasonable enough to him to even consider anything else.

To Ryou it was nothing but the simple dependency on him that had drawn Bakura near.

    'And I'm so willing to do just that, aren't I? Your stupid little host who has done almost everything to get you back because I thought you'd be different now that Zorc is gone…’ He stared down at the sleeping man and carefully tugged a strand of white hair behind Bakura’s ear to get a better look at his face. It was the sight Ryou had denied himself in the morning: the strange and unfamiliar calmness had softened the other's features and caused a deceiving impression of harmlessness.

     ‘And yet I'm glad you're here...'

Ryou leaned closer, almost close enough to kiss Bakura's cheek, and stayed in this position a little longer -as if to consider doing just that- before he removed himself from the other and got up, making sure to tug Bakura in once more to keep him warm. He still had a dinner to get ready for.


	4. Surviving The Night

It hadn't taken long until Ryou's mind had drifted far away from the dry conversations about money, possible company fusions, politics, and golf (the latter actually had never been mentioned once but Ryou was by then already too far gone to notice) to the soft melodic drawl of an instrumental song which quietly accompanied their dinner.  
Like a good trophy-wife, he had smiled and nodded on occasion while appearing interested in everything that was going on around him. Yet, his true focus lay on the wine glass in front of him which had been filled a while ago but was still left untouched. He carefully trailed along the rim, feeling the delicate glass press against his slender finger. Despite being thin enough, it didn’t cut him and he wondered whether the blood-red drink resting inside it had cost more or less than the monthly rent of his apartment. His bet was on more.  
Someone spoke up again and Ryou's eyes wandered to the source of the noise, unaware that he was giving the man sitting across of him a sultry look. His long eyelashes, blackened with mascara, batted once, twice, before he focused on the glass again, the forced smile still lingering on his face.  
He had no idea anymore what exactly this man's name was but he knew that he probably held the power to turn him straight as a ruler somewhere within his personality. One glance had been enough to see that he had already metaphorically licked his fingers to get a piece of Ryou, most likely thinking that he was a flat-chested girl wearing a suit.  
"Slimebag" as he had mentally begun to call him, had managed it already to make him feel more uncomfortable than Bakura ever had throughout all the years. And he had put his friends into comas, impaled his left hand on a castle he had built for his Monster World campaign, shoved all five spikes of the Millennium Ring into his chest, cut his left arm with a knife, put him into a hospital several times, dragged his butt to the Shadow Realm... It was hard to top that seemingly endless list but Slimebag had managed to do just that with one single glance. Congratulations!  
'The wine was made for drinking, chérie,' the middle-aged man suddenly purred, drawing Ryou's attention to him once more.  
'Oh,' was all he could say in return, suddenly aware that the conversations around them had somewhat quieted down and everybody's eyes were on them. Even Kaiba's.  
To keep up his appearance, he forced himself to smile once more and lifted the glass to his lips to take a small sip, tasting the full rich flavour on his tongue for the first time. The cheap coloured water he usually had at home was nothing in comparison to this.  
He slowly drank some more, not only because he actually enjoyed the taste but also since he secretly hoped that having some alcohol in his system would possibly help him to survive the evening in Slimebag's presence (Considering where he was, Ryou had no intentions of actually getting wasted, just tipsy enough to get that familiar feeling of warm numbness which would at some point wrap around him like a safety blanket).  
His action seemed to please the man across of him, who leaned back in satisfaction, one arm draped over the back of an empty chair, and bared his teeth in a predatory grin. The other hand ran through black, slicked back hair and Ryou had to avert his gaze before the wine had the chance to make an U-turn in his throat.  
'Do I make you uncomfortable, little one?'  
'Of course not.' His voice wavered slightly at the end, almost giving away his true feelings for the other, but he managed to cover it up with a polite smile.  
To distract himself (and to calm his stomach), he turned his attention to Kaiba who still had his eyes trained on him, his expression unreadable. Ryou swallowed out of nervousness and immediately lowered his eyes, afraid that he had in any way embarrassed the other already.  
To be honest, he would be lying if he had said that he wouldn't have expected something like that to happen sooner or later. He had been constantly walking on thin ice all evening, having had to deal with strangers who tried to converse with him about topics he had hardly a clue about. In the beginning as they still had asked him about his job, things had been easy, but that had only entertained them for so long until they grew bored. Afterwards, he had switched to "looking good at Kaiba's side", which still left him with the natural uneasiness of someone treading into unfamiliar waters. He just didn't belong among a pack of businessmen, who didn't have any second thoughts about eyeing him up and down as if he were a limping horse just waiting to be put down. Out of _mercy_ , of course.  
The light touch of a warm hand on his knee startled him out of his thoughts but it was gone as quick as it had appeared and Ryou would have been left wondering whether it had actually happened at all, if it hadn't been for Kaiba's reassuring gaze and an almost unnoticeable nod before the conversation was steered back to business matters.  
Ryou blinked a few times in confusion but quickly gathered himself again. He had never thought Kaiba to be someone who ever reassured anyone, and was therefore surprised about his uncharacteristic behaviour, but he couldn't deny that it did make him feel a little better.  
However, he couldn't ponder on this for too long since they were finally served the main course and a juicy lamb steak drew Ryou's undivided attention to itself until it was (after another small pause used for conversation) followed by a Crème Brûlée as well as a refill of his glass, which he hadn't even noticed happening.

By now he was close to overstepping the line of fuzzy comfort he had set for himself -an attractive light flush already apparent on his cheeks- and therefore decided to stop drinking anything for a while altogether. This, unfortunately, left him with nothing to distract himself from any unwanted attention of Slimebag or the uncomfortable feeling of fullness which had begun to bother him after the main course. Just as he decided to secretly glance at the time, he heard Kaiba’s chair scrape against the wood parquet.  
'Please excuse us for a moment. Bakura? May I talk to you for a moment?'  
Ryou glanced up at Kaiba and -being more than glad about this chance to temporarily get away from their dining companions- nodded. He stood up as well and straightened his shirt, not even questioning the reason for this. Instead, he simply excused himself and let Kaiba guide them away from the tables and towards an exit leading to the adjacent garden.The languid music, which had functioned as a comforting background noise all evening, was barely audible anymore there.  
'I'm sorry about Mr. Makoto's behaviour but he has grown fond of you for totally understandable reasons,' Kaiba informed him.

'Excuse me? What do you mean?' Confusion temporarily clouded Ryou’s face as he tried to remember to whom the name belonged to until he realised that Kaiba must have been referring to Slimebag.  
'You look gorgeous tonight.'  
Ryou could feel the blush on his cheeks darken and timidly averted his gaze at the sudden compliment which also functioned as an answer to his previous question. Even though he had been complimented on his looks quite often already, it had never sounded so sincere (but then everything Kaiba said sounded sincere).  
'Thank you,' he muttered, cautiously eyeing their surroundings. The sun had not yet set completely but the heavy clouds hanging in the sky dulled the colour of everything while the nearby lamps almost pathetically tried to illuminate the small paths leading through the garden. A koi pond, slightly hidden behind bushes which Ryou suspected to be hydrangea, reflected a few of them.  
'What does Mr. Makoto do exactly?' he inquired, deeming the other's blue eyes more calming than the rustling bushes almost lost to the darkness.  
'His company is currently leading the market in terms of holograms. With his technology we could revolutionise the dueling experience completely.'  
'Oh,' was Ryou's dumbfound answer. Due to their newfound closeness, the scent of Kaiba's cologne washed over him with even the slightest rush of air and lulled him into a trance-like state. The artificial smell was completely different from Bakura's natural one but not in any way less exciting. Unlike the strong mix of musk, sweat and something akin to exotic spices, Kaiba's was light and a well-blended pot-pourri of things Ryou didn't even have a name for. It was simply pleasant, yet masculine. It was either that or the alcohol beginning to run its course.  
'I hope my behaviour did not influence his decision in any way.'  
Kaiba laughed dryly. 'If at all, you gave him one more reason to offer his technology to us. You're a mystery to him and he is known for enjoying a good challenge every now and then.'  
Ryou nodded slowly, the thought of Mr. Makoto (he would always refer to him as "Slimebag" in his thoughts) caused a shiver of discomfort to run down his spine.  
'He isn't even bothered by me accompanying you out here,' Ryou muttered, turning his focus to Kaiba once more, who just smiled in return.  
'As I said: He enjoys a good challenge. And there's hardly a bigger challenge for him tonight than to take what's mine.'  
' _Yours_?' Ryou repeated slowly to thoroughly process the other's words. While he knew that he should be offended by being treated like someone else's possession, he wasn't for some reason. Instead, he actually enjoyed Kaiba's possessive streak.  
'At least for tonight.'

Together they walked closer to the pond while making sure that they still could be seen easily from the windows. Wild rumours about them being more than what they actually were was something neither of them needed. Especially not Seto Kaiba, who used the moment to fix one of his cufflinks.  
'I was afraid that I did something wrong by accident,' Ryou admitted, his voice low.  
'You did well, Bakura. I don't regret taking you here.'  
A genuine smile appeared on Ryou's face at Kaiba's appraise. In this moment he didn't bother with the fact that there was most likely a very aggravated Bakura awaiting him at home already, whom he had left behind snuggled up with a hot-water bottle and underneath two warm blankets even though he would never do the same in return for him. Nor was he thinking about jealous co-workers or missed phone calls from his friends who only told him that they missed him. There was no dread lurking around a corner he had to worry about and no draining conversations with his never-present father.  
No, nothing like this was on Ryou's mind at this very moment since he was in the company of someone, who was at least interested enough to ask him out for this evening. Someone who seemed to shield him from any unwanted attention.  
'I do not regret coming here.'  
The young CEO laughed quietly. 'I didn't expect you to.'  
A comfortable silence fell over the two men, who by now stood close enough to the pond that they could have watched the expensive fishes inhabiting it, had the sun shined a bit brighter.

Kaiba took a deep breath, readying himself for a nuisance he had to get out of the way.  
‘Has something been bothering you lately?’  
‘No.’ Ryou wrapped his arms around himself as the wind picked up, his lips drawn into a thin line. ‘Everything is fine.’ His gaze wandered back to the pond where ripples began to move across the formerly calm water, distorting the reflections of the lamps before audibly reaching the bank. It was pretty in a chaotic way.  
‘Why are you asking?’  
‘You seemed to be a bit… off, for a lack of a better word. As if you were somewhere else with your thoughts.’  
Ryou sighed in resignation and lowered his gaze. So this was the reason for them going outside.  
‘I’m not used to these kind of conversations. I don’t know what you expected of me as you invited me here.’  
‘It’s not just today, Bakura. You have been on edge for a while now.’ There was a small pause. ‘Yugi and the others didn’t get involved in something again, did they?’  
‘No,’ Ryou replied. ‘To be honest, I haven’t seen them in a while. Yugi has been quite busy since he took over the Game Shop from his grandfather. And so am I, for that matter.’  
Kaiba grunted, obviously displeased with the answer as if he suspected there to be more to the whole story. Maybe he hoped there was. One never knew with him.  
'I will drive you home after we have finished the deal with Mr. Makoto,’ he said, his gaze firmly trained on the large restaurant windows, which occupied almost the whole side of the building. It was obvious that their disappearance had indeed caught the interest of some of the others.  
'Thank you very much for the offer, but there is no need for you to do that. I can easily take a cab to get home. This way you won't have to drive across almost all of Domino City.'  
'It was part of the _deal_ , Bakura. I'll get you home safely. End of discussion.'  
Ryou frowned, suddenly brought back to reality by the CEO's formal tone. This wasn't simply a nice evening with someone who was interested in him. It was a _business meeting_ and he got paid to be good company. Nothing more.  
'I _will_ take a cab, Kaiba. And I _will_ pay for it myself.'  
‘Is this your last word?’  
‘Yes.’  
Kaiba nodded solemnly but didn’t test Ryou’s resolve any further, unaware that it easily would have crumbled after just a few correctly worded questions.  
‘We should return to the others.’  
Ryou quietly agreed and together they made their way back towards their reserved table where he was already eagerly awaited by an almost drooling Mr. Makoto.

After another glass of wine and a settled deal with the quite rich manager of a certain technology company, everyone had parted on good terms. During one extremely firm handshake, a small, neatly folded napkin had exchanged its owner and had ended up in Ryou's possession. Without unfolding it even once, he had already known that it had been inscribed with a number he didn't want to possess, and therefore had secretly discarded it while no one was looking. Throughout all of this, he had worn a fake smile which had made his lips hurt, and he hadn't stopped until he had exited the upper-class location together with Seto Kaiba who, once more, had tried to convince him to let himself be driven home. Ryou had, once more, shut him down.  
Now he was standing just outside the building and wrapped his coat tighter around his shivering body in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the pouring rain while he waited for the cab to arrive. Strands of his long hair clung uncomfortably to his skin, the rain having given it a silverish shine. Even though he knew that it shouldn't be much longer anymore, he secretly mourned the missed opportunity to get driven home in a dry and warm limousine which probably would have offered a bit more than just a safe ride to his apartment.  
Ryou glanced at his mobile phone to check the time once more, having hoped that more than just a few minutes had passed by now, and shoved it into his pocket again in frustration. His gaze wandered down the drenched street for the umpteenth time but he didn't see anything else besides the distorted reflections of the street-lamps and flashing neon-signs, which he had already seen the last few times he had checked for an upcoming car. The whole time, the heavy sound of rain constantly dripping onto the rooftops and the asphalt reached his cold ears. It was solely interrupted by the occasional car driving somewhere in the distance. None of them took a turn into the street where he waited.  
Just as he wanted to shift his gaze to the other side, he stopped and gave the street another glance, squinting his eyes slightly to get a better view of the one thing which had been off. It hadn't been much and he had almost missed it altogether but similar to a shadow one only noticed out of the corner of one's eye, it made itself seen as he averted his eyes to another direction again. But now that he exactly knew where to look, he began to wonder how he could have missed it in the first place.  
A tall hooded figure stood at the next street corner and faced Ryou, who was frozen in place. The person was too far away for him to actually see his face but the stillness of the stranger unnerved him. He seemed to be watching him. Lurking.  
For a moment, Ryou even forgot how annoying the rain had been just a second ago as the cool water continuously ran down his face before soaking the collar of his suit. All he could do was to stare back at the stranger who didn't even began to walk as the lights turned from red to green and back to red.  
_'Something isn’t right_ ’ registered at the back of his mind but his body just didn’t want to catch up. Important seconds ticked by until Ryou, finally getting back to his senses, slowly turned around to not draw any unnecessary attention to himself. All he could focus on was the cold feeling of dread which crawled up his spine as well as his instincts which screamed at him to just run. To get away from there. _Pronto.  
_ There was a bus stop just a few blocks away anyway, he reasoned, his mind creepily clear. If he was lucky, he could still catch the Line 204 which would at least drive into the general direction of his apartment. From there he could then take the Line 208 or 212 (he couldn't remember anymore which it was), and after a few more steps he would finally be at home, where Bakura would already be awaiting him. Screw the cab.  
Ryou glanced over his shoulder just to see that the stranger had begun to walk into the same direction as he did, and he took a sharp breath. Why did he have to be too proud to deny Kaiba's offer to drive him home? Especially, after what had happened the evening before? He would be safe in the other's company and by now at least halfway at home. As it was he was alone in the upper-class district of Domino City with nowhere to run to.  
Of course, it would have been too good to be true if his past wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass. But as he knew just too well; it didn't matter how much time had passed. There would always be someone seeking revenge for something that had happened in his past and, as everybody knows, revenge was a dish best served cold. And cold it had gotten by now.  
Ryou didn't even realise that his whole body was internally shaking like the last leaf still stuck on a tree in late autumn. Despite of this, he still somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other and even sped up a bit, the cold air hurting his teeth. He began to run, trying to get away from the person whose steps had quickened as well, creating a deathly rhythm with the beating of his own fluttering heart and the harsh breaths he had to take.  
After everything he had gone through in his life, he didn't want to end up inside a trash can of a remote back alley, gutted and thrown away like a life-sized doll. No, he wanted to live.  
And the stinging of his lungs was a beautiful reminder of how alive he still was as he tried to run even faster. He tried to look behind him, stumbled and decided otherwise.  
Hell, if he got caught, he would have enough time to look at his... stalker? Attacker? Murderer? He had to move forwards!  
_Left, right, left, right, breathe..._  
His whole focus lay on the clean tips of his black shoes which flashed in and out of his view in regular intervals.

Just as a sharp pain began to make itself known in his side, a long black car came to a halt right next to him with screeching tires, further startling him as a door swung open.  
'Get inside.'  
The voice was familiar and it was all Ryou needed to get into the limousine and shut the door behind himself, whimpering quietly as a hand was quickly pressed against the glass of the rear window with a dull thud, temporarily smearing the rain water running along it, before disappearing again in the confines of the night as the limousine dragged its heavy body along the street with increasing speed. He immediately melted against the warm seat, much to the dismay of Kaiba, who scrunched up his nose in slight disgust as the dripping man pressed himself against the leather.  
'Take off your jacket, Bakura.'  
The word 'what' was already on the tip of Ryou's tongue but he quickly followed the order, shuffling out of the wet piece of clothing which he then wanted to discard at his side. In the last moment, he changed his mind and kept it in his hands. His trousers were wet already anyway. This way he had something to keep himself busy at least.  
'I'm sorry,' Ryou muttered nervously. He returned to his former position, not caring how he appeared to the other. All he could focus on was his racing pulse and the quick puffs of air which just wouldn't stop escaping his lips as his lungs desperately tried to fill themselves with more oxygen than was needed.  
'What did this guy want from you?'  
Ryou just shook his head and closed his eyes as he slowly began to relax. He was safe now.  
'Do you even know who this was?'  
Another shaking of his head followed. ‘ _No_ ’. As he spoke up again, his voice cracking slightly.  
'Why were _you_ still here?'  
'I wanted to make sure that you got safely into your taxi.'  
For some reason, hearing these words spoken so freely, made something inside Ryou drop. He sucked in a shaky breath through his teeth but that was everything his still strung-up body currently allowed him to do. No one had ever shown him that much affection and care for his well-being that he didn't know how to deal with it besides muttering 'thank you'.  
'Don't mention it. Do you want some champagne?'  
Ryou looked up into ice-blue eyes, which yet managed to hold an unfamiliar warmth, and nodded. Originally, he had wanted to decline since he has had already more than enough but the slight smile which ghosted around Kaiba's lips made him change his opinion.  
'To calm the nerves' was the explanation he got while he was handed a long thin glass, filled further than it was socially acceptable. Ryou, however, didn't mind as he took a shaky sip before he returned to an upright position, the glass carefully resting in his hands.  
'You should have come with me immediately.'  
'I know.' Ryou focused on the tiny bubbles, which rose to the surface of his drink, with a frown. Even though he was now safe, he hated how it made himself seem dependent on Kaiba. But then was it really that bad? He almost snorted at the stupidity of the question in his situation. This was neither the time nor the place he should be worrying about that. He was alive. He was here. ‘Here’ being inside a limousine making it’s way through Domino City.  
Worrying his lower lip, Ryou turned his attention to the dark, empty streets which flew past the window as they drove to another part of the city, where the flats were smaller and the cocktails cheaper but the crime rates still below the average. It was home.  
‘So what _is_ going on? And don’t bullshit me this time.’  
‘I don’t know,’ Ryou whispered, his eyes still trained on the window. ‘I seriously don’t know. I thought I was followed home yesterday, but didn’t give it too much thought.’ He purposely left out the part where Bakura had returned to him, somehow alive. No one needed to know about that yet.  
‘What happened before that?’  
‘Nothing. Nothing that I am aware of.’  
‘Do you have any enemies?’  
Ryou let out a dry laugh. Did he? Or did Bakura? If not even his friends had been able to discern between the two, then it was even less likely for his enemies to be the case.  
‘I didn’t think so.’  
Kaiba hummed in thought but stopped questioning him after that and Ryou was glad about the following silence. All he wanted to do was to get home and curl up in his warm bed, forgetting about everything which had happened. At least for this evening.

Sooner than Ryou had expected, the black car stopped in front of his apartment where everything still lay as he had left it earlier that day. The purring engine stopped, leaving the two passengers with nothing but the even sound of heavy raindrops dripping onto the roof.  
'Thank you,' Ryou muttered. ‘For everything.’ _For saving me_ , he mentally added but didn’t dare to say because it would make everything only more real.  
’Don't mention it.'  
Ryou smiled at Kaiba, one of the few genuine smiles of the evening, and turned his head to look outside at the apartment-complex. The lights in his were turned on.

It was past eleven as he finally reached his apartment. His safe haven. Now that he hadn’t been able to occupy his mind with a moving car, Kaiba’s presence or a cool glass in his hands anymore, the severity of his whole situation has had the time to fully register in his mind during his ascended to the sixth floor. While his mind still processed everything in a calm and rational manner, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He fumbled with his keys, dropping them twice, before he finally unlocked the door and slipped inside where he was already greeted by a pair of confused, brown eyes. Confused and irritated.  
'Hey,' he muttered, gracelessly stumbling past the couch, where Bakura had gotten comfortable at some point and now let out a low grunt in disgust.  
'I didn't know that rich boy also made alcoholic prototypes. You're late.'  
Ryou kicked off his shoes and paused. His eyes met Bakura’s again for a mere moment as he tried to assess the situation. The last thing he needed was for the other to turn on him for whatever reason.  
'Don’t be like that. Not now, please.’  
'I'm hungry! There’s absolutely _nothing_ in your fucking fridge.'  
'I left you the number of the delivery service. You could have ordered something.'  
'I never ordered food in my life until now and I won't change that now.' Bakura huffed, ready to go on a rant why exactly that was the case but immediately stopped himself as he watched Ryou carelessly drop his dripping jacket onto the hardwood floor. 'How did you get here?'  
'Kaiba drove me.'  
'Kaiba actually drives his cars?’ Bakura snorted, the fact that something was obviously off about the whole situation temporarily forgotten. ‘Doesn't he have people who do that for him?' Nevertheless, he had to look twice at the dishevelled white hair of the younger man, partly sticking up now that it was starting to dry, and his tired eyes which were half-closed due to something else than the alcohol which he had blamed at first. Something definitely wasn't right.  
‘What happened?’  
Ryou shook his head and wanted to continue walking. He wanted to go to bed. Even a shower seemed too much for him. Let alone getting undressed.  
A sharp pain started to spread in his wrist before he could take another step. He turned his head to look at Bakura.  
‘Let me go! I’m not in the mood for one of your dumb power plays.’  
‘Tell me what happened!’  
‘I was followed again! Happy now? We had just left the restaurant and I was waiting for my cab to come and this person just stood there. Not moving. I wanted to run but he followed me and I was lucky that Kaiba was still around because he got me into his car just in time. I don’t know what would have happened if Kaiba hadn’t been here! I could be dead! Or worse! And why do you even care anyway?’ Ryou’s chest rose and sunk in a quick rhythm as if he had run a marathon. He had begun to yell in the middle of his rant until his voice cracked at the end, but now he felt as if the rest of his energy had disappeared into thin air, leaving him feeling hollow. ‘You’re hurting me.’  
Bakura turned him around so that they were completely facing each other.  
‘You’re an idiot,’ he hissed, not loosing his grip on the other’s wrist.  
Ryou averted his gaze. While he knew that he couldn’t expect any comfort from the other he had still hoped for more than… that.  
‘You should have told me immediately that it is this serious!’  
‘As if my well-being interests you at all.’  
‘Of course, it does! If you’re in danger then so am I.’  
‘Oh…’ Ryou’s shoulders sagged. ‘How could I possibly expect _any_ other reason. Silly me.’ He stared at the wall next to them as if it offered all the answers he currently needed. He could feel Bakura’s breath against his skin but it felt as if days had passed since he had left him on the couch this morning. The pain finally lessened and, not even knowing why, he let himself sink against Bakura, who almost didn’t catch him.  
‘I’m so tired.’ His voice was muffled by the other’s chest.

Whatever he had expected to happen, it hadn’t been this. Still fully closed, he rolled onto his side, his gaze wandering from the ceiling to Bakura, who currently made his way to the bedroom window to close the blinds. His slight limp was still noticeable as he moved, but not as prominent anymore as it had been just the day before. He looked better in general, Ryou noted.  
‘Did this man follow you home yesterday or did you lose him somewhere?’  
‘I lost him at the plaza. I think…’ Ryou paused, his brows furrowing. ‘I was alone as I came here.’  
Bakura let out a noncommittal hum while he checked the windows once more and walked out of the room. Ryou could hear his door getting locked twice a short moment later.  
‘I didn’t think it was so bad. I thought that I might have overreacted or seen things.’ He curled up and shook his head. ‘It’s been so long…’  
‘What’s been so long?’ Bakura had by now returned and was currently leaning against the doorframe, his eyes trained on the back of the other man.  
‘Doesn’t matter. You didn’t tell me everything either.’ Ryou frowned and began to play with the corner of his pillow, shortly stopping as he felt the mattress dip next to him.  
‘What’s there to tell?’  
‘What’s going on with you? You looked as if you were dying earlier today.’  
Ryou turned onto his other side to properly look at Bakura while they talked. It caught him by surprise how close they actually were, their difference in position only highlighting it even more. If he had wanted to, he could have moved a bit closer and rest his head on Bakura’s lap with ease.  
Bakura sighed, clearly annoyed by the other man’s question, and reclined against the headboard, his arms crossed behind his head.  
‘Must have been the stress. I relaxed and my body gave in for a moment. It’s better now.’  
‘Stop lying, Bakura. Is it getting worse? You do look better now, though… ’  
‘I don’t remember you being a doctor.’  
‘I’m not.’ Ryou slowly moved into a sitting position as well and hugged his knees. ‘So what _did_ happen to you?’  
Bakura simply shrugged. ‘I can’t remember much from the beginning. I wandered around this dumb city, not knowing where to go. I was disoriented and had nothing. Since I needed to get some money, I did what I’m good at.’  
‘Stealing.’  
‘Bingo. Ended up with Alistair later and ran some errands for him. It was easy and gave me some much needed protection, but I have always been a one-man project. Things slowly turned sour and that bastard never payed me the full prices. I got pissed off and well…’ He pointed at his black eye and laughed dryly. ‘My bad health wasn’t helping. It’s like the Gods fucked up majorly.’  
Ryou mustered the other intently as if he was looking for anything which might be off. A third eye, hidden wings, horns or something similar.  
‘If only I knew how you got back… I might be able to help you. Maybe something went wrong or it wasn’t finished…’  
‘ _Again_ : I have no fucking clue how I got back, but I doubt it was some kind of ritual which caused it. Who would want me back?’ He laughed cruelly. ’Marik? I doubt it.’  
Ryou visibly deflated and sunk back against the mattress.  
‘Face it, I wasn’t meant to be here again. It was just a cruel joke which slowly gets fixed.’  
‘I don’t think so,’ Ryou whispered.  
‘You always try to see the good in things, don’t you? Well, newsflash, there’s no good in my life and from what I can tell there’s none in yours.’  
For a moment, the rain hammering against the windows was the only sound which could be heard in the small apartment besides the occasional soft rustling of the sheets as either of them moved even the slightest bit after having become uncomfortable.  
‘What are we going to do now?’ Ryou asked after a while, the silence between them having agitated him.  
‘Your apartment seems to be safe as far as I can tell, but since he even found you on your little date with Kaiba, we can’t be sure about that. So… survive the night, hope that nothing happens and take it from there, I’d say. Stocking up on groceries sounds like a good first step considering the piss-poor condition of your fridge. Call the cops. Fuck, I don’t know. I got into a lot of shit but never had a stalker.’ Bakura glanced at Ryou, who focused on something straight ahead of him, and he wasn’t even certain whether this spot was still within the bedroom. Or even in this dimension for that matter.  
‘On whose toes did you step to get into this situation anyway?’  
‘I. Don’t. Know,’ Ryou snapped, his attention having shot to Bakura without a warning. ‘Why does everyone think it’s something that _I_ did? What if it’s someone who’s working for this guy _you_ pissed off? Maybe he mistook me for you!’  
Bakura huffed, unimpressed by the sudden display of stress-induced aggression of his former host.  
‘Well, if it _is_ someone of Alistair’s guys, we’d be royally fucked.’

 


End file.
